


from the beginning, all the way to the end.

by eoghainy



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Drabbles, F/M, M/M, Original Ideas, Tumblr Prompts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2018-08-30 00:06:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 23,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8511145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eoghainy/pseuds/eoghainy
Summary: a collection of warrior drabbles.





	1. an ache so deep.

The snowy white tom tucked his large paws underneath his chest, turning pale yellow hues upon the moon. It was nothing more than a claw scratch in the sky; it would be days yet before the next Gathering. And come the next Gathering, ThunderClan would see what ShadowClan’s new leader, _Tigerstar_ , had in store for them.

Whitestorm swallowed against the lump in his throat as he turned his gaze to the nursery, feeling a pang in his chest. He and Tigerstar had grown up together in that very same nursery, they had spent their kithood and apprenticeship by each other’s side. His own father had been Tigerstar’s mentor!

Even as a young apprentice, Tigerstar had been ambitious. He had always had his eye on leadership. Any cat who had spent time with him knew that. For moons, the white warrior had been able to tell most of what the tabby was feeling, right up until he began pulling away from those whom knew him so well.

It wasn’t rare that Tigerstar pulled away from cats. After Thistleclaw’s death, he made himself a stranger to most of his old friends. It had begun with the powerful warrior needing space, and slowly evolved into him making himself a helping paw of their fair leader and the senior warriors, trying to warm them up to him so that he would have more of a chance to obtain the deputy position.

Where two tomcats used to be closer than kits in the womb, they became strangers faster than two cats from opposite Clans. After Thistleclaw’s death, Whitestorm did not recognize Tigerstar any longer. The tabby tom always seemed to have a dark streak in him, for Whitestorm could easily remember their rough play as kits, but his ambition must have come from Thistleclaw. Whitestorm was not deaf to the whispering of Bluestar, nor to the whisperings of the Clan. Thistleclaw had been a fox in a cats pelt, wanting to bring nothing but death to the Clan.

Whilst shaking his head, the large tom got to his paws and shook out his long pelt, relishing in the warm newleaf air. He felt too restless to stay in camp and sleep, his paws itched to be moving and his thoughts were too scattered. The old warrior could hear the almost silent creaks in his bones as they shifted and rolled against his joints, helping him realize that he, like all cats, was growing old. Gray hairs already stained his muzzle, showing up starkly amongst the white.

The senior warrior dipped his head to Sandstorm as he passed her, fluffing his pelt up against the cool breeze that swept through the forest. The camp walls and the ravine blocked out the cool air, so he was not prepared for the chill that shook through him.

Whitestorm was so proud of Sandstorm, his former apprentice. She had come so far as a young warrior, and she was going to go even farther. How long would it be until she and Fireheart admitted their feelings for each other? He knew that there was something stirring between the two of them, something that had begun to develop after WindClan’s return to the forest. His mind drifted to his own mate and kits. Sorrelkit, Rainkit and Sootkit would become strong warriors, they did share his blood, after all. Willowpelt would raise and guide them well, if something were to happen to him before he could see them as grown warriors.

The trees above rustled as leaves swayed with the wind, soothing Whitestorm’s whirling mind. His thoughts stopped as he focused upon the forest around him, excitement sparking within his wary body at ThunderClan’s territory. Prey scents flooded over his open senses, and the warrior sighed in longing. His bones were too old and his sight too poor for him to be able to do some nighttime hunting. Rather than just attempt it, he carried on, letting his paws lead to him where he needed to be.

Whitestorm didn’t realize that his paws, and his heart, led him to the border they shared with ShadowClan. The white tomcat settled himself down in a comfortable position amongst the brush, allowing his yellow gaze to look across the border, feeling an emotion that resembled that felt as if it were crushing his throat.

He longed for the days in which he and Tigerstar could share a piece of prey and share tongues in a shadow of camp as the sun set, whilst purring and exchanging Clan gossip.

He longed for the days in which he and Tigerstar could hunt and patrol the borders, all the while sharing jokes and reminiscing about their younger days as newly made warriors, eager and desperate to prove themselves.

He longed for the times when he and Tigerstar could sit at the Gatherings and laugh at all those who tried to top their battle stories, always sharing knowing glances.

A purr got stuck in the tomcats throat. Their kits were growing up alongside of each other, and Whitestorm didn’t quite know how he felt about that. His body yearned with a fierce desire to protect his own kin, but his mind told him to give Tigerstar’s young kin a chance. They could _not_ be punished by the sins of their father.

With Goldenflower’s influence, could Bramblekit and Tawnykit turn out that bad? Whitestorm had to bring up the argument of nurture over nature when discussed with the other senior warriors, and they had done nothing but reluctantly agree to give the kits a chance. Fireheart, though, did not trust Bramblekit or Tawnykit in the slightest. The flame – colored warrior would glare at them, and Whitestorm could practically feel the fear radiating off of him. He would have to ask Goldenflower to have a talk with him about it, and sometime soon.

“Oh, Tigerstar,” Whitestorm sighed as he bowed his head, “where did you go wrong?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter updated!


	2. wildflowers.

His paws touched the soft grass of StarClan’s hunting grounds, and the blind medicine cat flexed his claws, feeling the safety and security that StarClan provided. It took him a moment to adjust, to feel that he was no longer a part of the living, but a part of the ancestors that had given him much trouble during his living seasons. 

Previously blind eyes open to revel in sight, revealing the stunning blue color that they were said to be. They scan across the cats gathered, some showing expressions of welcome.

His kin, Firestar, Hollyleaf, Sandstorm, Juniperkit, and Dandelionkit. Cats he’s come to know from the Clan; Ashfur, Foxleap, Icecloud, Toadstep, Ferncloud, Hazeltail, Honeyleaf, Mousefur, Longtail, Dustpelt, Sorreltail, Seedpaw, Ravenpaw, Yellowfang . . .

But there was only one cat that he was looking for, and he was afraid that he hadn’t made it in time. He _had_ to have made it! There were many cats that remembered her now, so she had to still be alive and still here!

Anxiety pricked his chest as he hurried, brushing past the ones that he could always reunite with later. His urgency must have shown with every step, for he had to reach her, had to see her, had to spend her remaining time making up for all of the seasons that they had lost.

_I will wait forever, Jay’s Wing!_

He, a blind medicine cat, was born to two cats that had left their Clans to share their lives together and have kits. His paws had been set on a destiny that was irreversible ever since the dawn of the Clans, and even seasons before that. He was one of the Three, which became Four, the kin of the legendary late leader Firestar, and had been advisor to the great leader Bramblestar, the cat he had thought of as his father for so long.

Aching, the tom still felt the distance between himself and her. He could feel her absence like a thorn in his heart, and he wished to any cat that was listening that he could find her sooner. He needed to be by her side, needed to feel her soft fur pressed against his, and look into her beautiful green eyes.

The last time that he had seen those eyes . . . he had made her the first Stoneteller by Rock’s direction, and made it so that she could aid in creating everything that was today. There had been no room in their destines for kits, or mates. Only for brief encounters that made their hearts heavy with loss and grief for the life that could have been theirs.

Paws picked up in speed as he pelted along the smooth grasses, his heart in his throat. He, Jayfeather, had not fallen for a living cat. No, no, he had fallen for a _dead_ one. He had loved her before his time in ThunderClan, and he loved her even more fiercely now. Jay’s Wing and Jayfeather both harbored strong emotions for her, the cat that never left his mind, the cat that had waited forever for him to reborn and to return to her side. 

He understood why his mother and father had done what they had done. If given the chance, he would have stayed with her back at the start of the Tribe of Rushing Water until his death. He would have given up being one of the Four to be able to stay by her side.

This, though, this would have to do. 

Her scent touched his sensitive nose and he changed direction, chasing after it like a piece of prey. His eyes were stretched wide to catch a glimpse of her pelt, and when he did, he couldn’t help but bowl into her. 

She gave a slight yowl of surprise, but went with it. He planted his paws by her head, matching his blue with her green. They held each other's gazes, and there was a glimmer of sadness in hers, perhaps for the life that he had left behind. 

Though she was almost faded, and though he could see the ground through her pale pelt, he did not care. She was just as beautiful as he remembered . . .

“Half Moon,” he breathed, a purr forcing its way through his throat. She reached her head up to lick his muzzle almost desperately, and he purred even louder, relishing in the feelings of her touch. 

The last time they had been able to meet was after the battle with the Dark Forest. His tail twined with hers, their muzzles bent, and separated from the other cats. They had whispered their goodbyes and their ‘I love yous’ before she was set off to go, leading the other Ancients back to StarClan.  

This could not be pushed away nor interrupted. Their paws finally walked the same path that would grand them, hopefully, with seasons of happiness and love. The love that they missed out on and deserved.

“Jayfeather,” she meowed, her voice breathless. Neither had words, they only communicated through their eyes, able to read the love that was so evident. “Welcome home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> updated !


	3. broken trust.

The days without Tigerstar seemed to stretch on and on, becoming longer and longer than the last. She refused visitors from the rest of the Clan, and huddled her kits close, fearing that there would be a reckoning from the choices that her mate had made before. Her fear only increased when she heard of Bluestar’s declining mental health. Would the she – cat take her anger out upon her innocent, young kits?

The sweet, golden queen was absolutely horrified of the things that Tigerclaw had done, that her kittens were his kin, and would forever shoulder his legacy. How did she keep that from them, protect them from the judgement of the Clan? From Bluestar, Fireheart, and all of the elders?

_StarClan, please help me!_

She couldn’t help but think of all the times that Tigerclaw had shown her the softer side of him that he had only shown to her. The large tabby tom would always join her in the nursery at night, winding around her whilst she was curled around their kits, comfortingly rasping his tongue along her shoulder. She missed the comforting warmth he was offer her, and the love that he radiated with. He’d always be gone before dawn, but he was _there_ with her, and she loved it.

Life had become hard for her. Her littermate had died just two seasons earlier, and she had shared a very strong bond with him. His death had been sudden and tragic, and grief still ached at her. She would never forget the bright golden color of his fur, nor his scent. She would carry him with her for always.

On top of Lionheart’s death, she had lost her mate, and become an outsider in her Clan.

The only thing that was keeping her sanity intact was Tawnykit and Bramblekit. Their needs were the only thing that mattered to her, and she would protect them from the Clans wrath at every chance she got. When they were in the clearing playing, with Goldenflower watching carefully from the nursery, she saw the way Fireheart looked at them.

She saw the way his lip curled when he looked at Bramblekit, and the way he glared whenever they grew too near. He judged Bramblekit for his strong resemblance to Tigerclaw. There was raw hatred and unease in his gaze, and she hated that Fireheart didn’t trust her kits. Bramblekit might look like Tigerclaw, but his personality was much like hers. He would be _like her,_ and not like his father.

Staying in the nursery wasn’t a solution to her problem. She had to face her Clanmates eventually, and her legs were in dire need of a stretch. Deciding that she would go out and hunt for a bit, under the protection of the night, Goldenflower rose to her paws and nudged her kits so that they were sleeping closer together.

“Sleep well, my little loves.” She purred, rasping her tongue over both of their ears. If they awoke whilst she was gone, they’d be well cared for Willowpelt.

Her bones ached and were as stiff as ever as she slid out of the nursery and stretched, realizing that she was getting old. She wasn’t that much younger than Bluestar! But the weight of leadership had aged their previously firm leader by seasons.

Sighing, she headed towards the entrance, only stopping when she heard pawsteps and scented another ThunderClan cat. She braced herself for the suspicion, for the accusations that were bound to come. 

“Where are you going?” Fireheart asked, his tone mistrustful. He weaved in front of her, blocking the entrance, his emerald gaze sharp. 

“Just to hunt,” Goldenflower’s voice was cold. “I haven’t been out since the kits were born, so I’m going to stretch my paws. Not that you need to know, anyhow.”

“I _am_ the deputy,” he reminded her.

“And _I’m_ not going to meet Tigerclaw!” She snapped, feeling herself begin to bristle. She forced herself to calm down, knowing that fighting wasn’t going to help anything. “I’m just going to hunt. Follow me if you really don’t trust me.” Her tail lashed once, and she stalked out of camp, able to feel Fireheart’s gaze lingering on her.

The breeze out in the forest was refreshing after the stuffy, hot air of the nursery. The rage that was growing within her instantly quelled, and she trotted deeper into the territory that she knew so well, her paws leading her towards the Twolegplace. Immediately, she grew wary, knowing that she didn’t want to get too close to there. Kittypets had been bad news lately, openly attacking warriors at any chance they got. 

Her amber gaze locked upon a vole, shrouded in moonlight, nibbling upon a grass seed. Dropping into a hunting crouch, the experienced queen prowled forward, her eyes fixated on the little piece of prey. 

Each step was light, paws barely evenly disturbing the debris on the forest floor. Dappletail had taught Goldenflower the best ways to hunt, as had Thrushpelt, when Dappeltail wasn’t around. The two warriors had made sure she had each technique down before being made a warrior.

Bunching up her stiff muscles, the she – cat didn’t hesitate. With her strong hindlegs, she pushed off the mossy ground. Easily, she caught the vole in between her paws, breaking its neck as easily as ever. A purr rumbled in her throat. She dug a hole beneath an oak tree, and dropped the vole inside. She planned to have that hole filled up by the time she returned back to camp.

With her head held high, and her tail fluffed with excitement and pleasure with herself, Goldenflower sent silent thanks to StarClan as she trotted off. Maw yet again parted, allowing the many forest scents to flow over her senses, reigniting her happiness to be out in the forest. Fireheart did not matter to her now; this was her time to be away from Tawnykit and Bramblekit for a little while, to get out of camp. She loved the little mites with all of her heart, but they were exhausting. But it wouldn’t be long before they would be apprenticed, and then she’d be free to return to the warriors den, or join the elders den, like she had been considering for a moon or so.

As she walked, waiting for prey scent to bathe her tongue again, an unfamiliar scent passed over her glands. It was a tom, and he seemed to hold a hint of Clan scent. Dropping into a battle crouch, she padded forward, her maw parted and head lowered low to the ground. Whiskers twitched as she got a scent of Tigerclaw, and suddenly, wished she hadn’t left the safety of camp.

Peering behind a screen of bramble, she could see the shape of the tom. Grief filled her as she remembered the young cat with the slopping, broad shoulders; the curled lip revealing words filled with wit and snark. His long, thick tail, curled around those large paws and his head held up high and proud. Tigerclaw, the honorable ThunderClan warrior, son of Pinestar and Leopardfoot, and her mate.

_Her_ mate.

Once she had felt so lucky to be so close to Tigerclaw. He blocked out all others that he didn’t seem to care for, but somehow, he let Goldenflower in. He let her through his barriers, and even had kits with her. Bramblekit and Tawnykit were his gift to her. If she had to lose him, then at least she got to keep them.

“Oh, Tigerclaw,” she murmured, freezing when she realized that she had spoken out loud. She watched Tigerclaw’s ears flick up in surprise, and he whirled around, dark amber finding her lighter amber faster than Goldenflower ever imagined. For a heartbeat, shock filled his gaze, but it was replaced by some dark and guarded emotion that she could not read. 

No cat would ever doubt Goldenflower’s loyalty to ThunderClan. She was a Clanborn cat, never broke the code, nor did she ever go against any of her leaders words without good reason. She had no faults stacked against her — _so why didn’t she chase Tigerclaw out_? Why didn’t she attack him like a _loyal_ ThunderClan warrior?

Taking one look at his bedraggled pelt, his now – skinny frame with those broad shoulders, his sunken eyes and his nervously flicking ears, pity washed away the anger and the questions that she had had. This once proud cat was reduced to _this_. 

“What have you done, Tigerclaw?” Goldenflower asked, not expecting an answer. She padded forward cautiously, brushing her muzzle against his own, rejoicing inside when he didn’t flinch away. Though, his muscles and his body were as stiff as ever, showing he wasn’t comfortable with what was going on. She didn’t care. A purr throbbed in her throat as she weaved around him, drinking in his scent. 

“I’ve missed you very much, Tigerclaw.” He gave her no answer, no notice that he had even heard her.

Never would Goldenflower forget the agonized expression that pulled at his face as he met her gaze right before the left. He had known that there was a chance that she would get hurt. He had known that he was putting his kits and his mate in danger. He had known that there was a chance that things would go very wrong. Right at this moment, he didn’t look as if he were strong and proud. He looked tired, old, and as if he were suffering. Before Fireheart had come to the Clan, Tigerclaw would have been able to make a great, proud leader that would lead ThunderClan to an age of greatness.

Now, he was . . . just reduced to a petty rogue.

She couldn’t blame Fireheart for the way Tigerclaw turned out. The young fiery tom had done as much as he could to save ThunderClan from all dangers. He had exposed the truth to Tigerclaw’s motives, exposed his crimes of murders and betrayals, and in doing so — ruined their lives. No, it wasn’t Fireheart that ruined their lives. It was Tigerclaw. He had done terrible things to rip them apart and leave their kits with a terrible legacy that they would _never_ escape, no matter how far, and how fast, they ran. It broke her heart. 

A raspy growl rumbled in Tigerclaw’s throat, and Goldenflower’s instincts warned her that danger was near. “Step _back_ ,” he spat at her, looking as if he didn’t want her anywhere near. Obediently, she took a half – step back, her eyes narrowing.

“Don’t be stupid,” She sniffed. “You’re lucky that it’s _me_ and not any other warrior. Maybe you’d be happy to see Darkstripe instead of me. Why can’t you just appreciate things for once?”

Tigerclaw glared at her, his dark amber yes seeming to size her up. “ _Happy_ to see _you_?” He snarled, and Goldenflower blinked in surprise. “You betrayed me. You betrayed your own _mate_ and you’re still loyal to that band of kittypets.” He sneered at her.

“When did I ever betray you?” She snapped, rage burning white – hot within her. “I never did anything that would hurt you.”

He bristled, a growl rumbling deep within him. One moment they were standing in front of each other, bristling, and the next Goldenflower was on the ground, shoulders against mossy ground. He had both forepaws beside her head and both hindpaws around her middle. He was much larger, and much stronger than her. She wriggled in an attempt to get away, but one snarl that revealed his sharp teeth stilled her. She must survive for her kits. Bramblekit and Tawnykit mattered much more than she.

“You stood by, sheltered in the nursery, and just _watched_ as I was driven out.” He hissed, growing dangerously close to her muzzle. “You didn’t stand with me, nor did you come with me with _our_ kits. _My_ kits.” His voice raised to a piercing tone. “Why would I want to be near a traitor like _you?_ I knew I couldn’t trust you! You were always too close to Bluestar!” He was fighting for his breath by the time he finally shut up, choosing to just glare at her.

But Goldenflower would not be silent. No, her fury overwhelmed her. “Mousebrain, you were the one who couldn’t be _trusted_. Consorting with Brokentail? Bringing rogues into the camp, where our _kits_ are? Killing Redtail? Attempting to kill Bluestar? Driving Ravenpaw away?” Her claws unsheathed, even though she couldn’t take a swipe at him. “I was a _fool_ to trust you, to even begin to think that you had a shred of deceny inside of you. You’re not loyal to any cat, Tigerclaw. All you care about is yourself and your own ambition!”

Tigerclaw stepped off of her, and Goldenflower took the chance to scramble to her paws. She did not think Tigerclaw was done with her, no. So she wasn’t surprised when he advanced towards her until their noses were nearly touching, as if he was trying to provoke her to attack him.

“At least I never stood up for _kittypets_ , half – Clan _monstrosities_ , and _traitors_. One of these days, I _will_ get my revenge on that kittypet fleabag. You hear me, Goldenflower? I’ll be back to take _my_ kits and they’ll grow up following _my_ rules, not the warrior code that you seem to love.” 

“I won’t _ever_ let you take them.” Each word was spat from her maw, her hackles raising. “They’ll grow up as true ThunderClan warriors. You already ruined their lives; most of the Clan stare at them with resentment because of your actions. I refuse to allow you to take them away from me.”

“You’re a queen, not a fighter.” Tigerclaw sneered. “You’ve always been weak like those other fleabags.”

Despite her anger at his words, Goldenflower couldn’t bring herself to respond. Her pale amber hues stared into his, finding herself softening. Her defensive state relaxed, and she stepped away from him. She could never bring herself to harm him, nor speak badly of him.

The tabby tom staggered back once he realized that their spat was done with, flopping down into the bracken to catch his breath. His flanks were heaving, body flinching as he began licking the wound that Fireheart had given him. Goldenflower hadn’t realized how quickly this argument had tired him out, and she began to feel guilty. “Curse that kittypet,” he growled breathlessly.

“You should let a cat look at that,” she mewed anxiously, moving forward and sniffing the wound. Cautiously, she rasped her tongue over his abdomen, smoothing his belly fur and cleaning the debris away. “It tastes sour, Tigerclaw. You could get an infection if you’re not paying attention!” Her gaze grew more worried as she noticed, for the first time, just how skinny he had become. Had he even been taking care of himself? He probably wasn’t, seeing how his flanks dipped and his ribs showed. 

“I’m fine,” he snapped at her, struggling to heave himself to his paws. After a heartbeat with no results, he collapsed back into the bracken, his legs shaking with exhaustion. With a heaving sigh, showing that he had given in, he stretched out and flicked his ears, a sign that he would allow Goldenflower to groom his fur. 

Barely, she could smell the rank stench of the Twolegplace on him, along with scents of rogues. The rogues he had attacked with, maybe? She couldn’t tell. Perhaps he was taking shelter with them. She couldn’t, and wouldn’t, ask him about it. That was his business; he was an outlawed rogue upon her territory, and if she were truly loyal to the code, she would have chased him off the moment she had seen him. But here she was, treating him like her mate, talking him in the dead of the night, and helping him with his wounds. How could it get any worse?

This, this would be her last time sharing tongues with Tigerclaw. After this, she was going to become even more loyal to her Clan and no longer think of Tigerclaw and the position he put her and the kits in. It was the right thing to do, it was the _loyal_ thing to do. Her heart would always beat for Tigerclaw; she would always be in love with him. But she was more loyal to ThunderClan.

When she was satisfied that his wound was clean, she sat back, allowing her gaze to travel to the Twolegplace upon the horizon. The sun was beginning to crest, it wouldn’t be long before the dawn patrol would be sent out, and it would be very hard to explain why she had been spending time with Tigerclaw. She didn’t want to leave him, oh no, she didn’t. _StarClan please give me strength!_

In an even voice, she spoke. “You should go.” She was surprised by how firm her voice was, but her eyes and her blank expression betrayed her sadness. He would be killed if he was found upon their territory. She nuzzled against his muzzle one last time, her heart breaking as she turned away from him. 

Before she could leave, Tigerclaw placed a paw over hers, leaning up so that he could rasp his tongue over her muzzle. With nothing but a sense of tenderness that was never shown in front of any other cat, he licked both of her ears before dropping down to her forehead, hesitant to let her go. He didn’t want to be alone, clearly, but his actions had condemned him to this life. She could not change it no matter how hard she tried.

Finally, Tigerclaw shakily rose to his paws. He brushed his thin pelt against her thick one as he began padding towards the Twolegplace, throwing back a glance at her. Goldenflower could detect the longing in its gaze, but it was hardened over by cold determination. Without another sound, he turned and hobbled off, leaving Goldenflower all by herself.

Sighing, Goldenflower rolled in the bracken to disguse Tigerclaw’s scent and began to groom herself, struggling with her grief, which weighed heavily upon her mind. She would hunt well for her Clan whilst the night was still young, and then she would return back to camp, raise her kits to be nothing like their father, and never speak of what had happened.

She was going to be loyal.


	4. dream a little dream of me.

Brightsky's purr was lulling Mudfur into a hazy state. 

Her purr was lulling the medicine cat into a hazy, relaxed, peaceful state. Amber hues were narrowed, ears flicking backwards with amusement as a cat licked his forehead, hastily smoothing a tuft of fur that stubbornly refused to behave.

It was at times like these in which Mudfur truly appreciated downtime. There was no obligation to hunt, no obligation to fight, no obligation to do anything but lay here in the sun by the river, listening to the bubbling water and the insects buzzing by their heads. A half – eaten carp lay between the two cats, caught by Mudfur himself. His pelt was still damp from where he had slid into the river.

“I love you, Mudfur.” The she – cat stated, her voice and her eyes soft. She was pressing against him, warm and familiar. 

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t, Brightsky,” Mudfur teased, flicking his thick tail over her ear. “I love you, too.” She pressed harder against him, as if sensing as if their time was growing short. She seemed afraid that he was going to disappear. “I wish we had more time to spend like this.”

“As do I.” These tender moments came few and far in between. Both were usually far too busy than they’d like to admit. During the night, they’d sleep with their spines pressed together, enjoying the warmth of their bodies as they dreamt of one day having their own family — 

“Mudfur, wake up. _Wake up_!”

Startlingly enough, a paw was shaking Mudfur’s shoulder as he snapped into wakefulness. Mothwing stood before him, amber eyes wide. “You were twitching,” she stammered, “I didn’t know if you were dreaming, or if you were ill.”

With a pang shaper than any claw, Mudfur realized where he was. He was lying down in his nest in the medicine den, surrounded by the pungent scent of herbs. Brightsky was dead. Their kits were dead. The only one that remained was his darling daughter Leopardstar, and he couldn’t be more proud of her if he tried.

Brightsky’s lovely scent still wreathed around him, lingering in his nostrils as he shakily rose to his paws, noting the stiffness that had his muscles aching. “I was just dreaming,” he told Mothwing tiredly, “do me a favor and go check in on Mistyfoot. Her fever should be gone by now.” As he slipped back into medicine – cat mode, something haulted his paws.

How different would he, and his life be, if Brightsky and their kits had survived?


	5. wish upon a star.

Not a moon goes by that Tallstar doesn’t stop and think of Jake.

As he grew older, with his mind slowly slipping into the dark reaches of instability, how could he not think of the only cat that he could consider his best friend? More than once in his life, Tallstar had prayed that they could have been more.

_More . . ._

Clan life wasn’t for Jake, and Tallstar knew that. But he wished that the kittypet would have changed his mind, and come barreling into the WindClan camp, boasting about how he wanted to be the best WindClan warrior that he could ever be and become Tallstar’s next deputy. Sometimes, Tallstar even wished that he had been the one to turn to the soft life of a kittypet, growing used to Twolegs and their involvement in kittypet lives.

At least he’d still have been with Jake, right?

Giving young Firestar advice, and attempting to nurture him through Clan life, hadn’t been the same as being around Jake. The younger tom, clearly Jake’s son, was filled with youth; he knew exactly what he wanted, and he didn’t really _need_ Tallstar to guide him through the steps. Tallstar wished that Firestar would need him. He wanted to see just how much Firestar was like his energetic father.

With the depths of instability came the doubt. Had his life really been all that he had made it out to be? Mudclaw was good deputy, but he had that ability to turn a switch, become bloodthirsty without a second thought. He knew that all of the territories were falling apart underneath their paws, Twolegs ripping their homes apart one – by – one. Jake could possibly be dead by now. He had never seen the kittypet again since they had parted ways at Fourtrees. He wished that they had been able to meet, just once more. 

Tallstar was old. Some say he was going mad, and Tallstar often found himself agreeing with them. He _was_ going mad! All of this wishing was with his head. Jake had been the absolute best friend he had ever known, even better of a friend than his medicine cat, Barkface.

Jake was his support when no cat was. Jake listened when no cat would. Jake knew who Tallstar was, even before Tallstar had known. Jake was always going to be the one who Tallstar constantly craved, constantly missed.

For StarClan’s sake, he wished he could see the ginger kittypet once more before he died.

But that, like many others, was just a wish.


	6. the wind has stopped.

“Runningwind,” Mousefur called, her voice rasping within her throat. “Why don’t you go ahead and check out that scent up there? It smells pretty fresh to me.” The wiry brown she – cat was struggling to keep up with the rest of the patrol, albeit being deemed the leader. One of her older injuries coupled with a recent sickness had weakened her, possibly for the rest of her life. Runningwind couldn’t help but wonder how long it would be until she joined the elders.

Mousefur, as his littermate, was just as young as he was. She had _many_ seasons left in her.

He held back a snort of annoyance at her words. She was so keen on treating everyone around her as if they were an apprentice, how was that fair to him, as her _brother_? Runningwind might not have the patience to train ThunderClan’s young, like with what happened with Fireheart’s dumb white kin, but it didn’t mean that he was any less capable of being a fierce warrior! He shot Mousefur a sharp look, and she glared back, as if silently reminding him that she was the leader of the patrol, and that she would send him back to camp if he opened his mouth. They were both petty, but she could be pettier when the time warranted.

Yet, somehow, Runnignwind’s pelt crawled as he strode forward, well aware of the threat that the forest now possessed. Tigerclaw could be hiding behind every tree, inside of every bush, waiting to pounce upon the nervous ThunderClan warriors. Determined not to show his fear, Runningwind dropped down into a hunting crouch, drawing himself forward slowly, each paw being placed carefully upon the forest floor. Every sense was alert, the anticipation of finding something making him far warier and anxious than he normally was.

Was today the day that the fearsome Tigerclaw decided to strike? If so, who would he kill first? Which ThunderClan warrior would go next? 

With a sudden, sharp pang, Runningwind remembered Redtail. He and the deputy had been very close, acting more like kin than friends. Hearing Ravenpaw, the nervous little apprentice, wail the news of Redtail’s death to the Clan had been shocking. Shocking enough that Runningwind felt the ground underneath his paws almost give way. The deputy didn’t deserve to have been murdered like that. He had been good, loyal, and only too happy to serve his Clan.

Becoming determined not to think of the events that had been unfolding within ThunderClan recently, Runningwind silently reprimanded himself with a hiss. As his maw parted, drawing in scents over his glands, he realized he could scent . . . _ShadowClan_?

A terrified shriek tore through Runningwind as a heavy body dropped on top of his, forcing his legs to buckle underneath the greater weight. Claws were raking down his spine, pulling chunks of tabby fur out. Struggling to identify his attacker throughout the haze of ShadowClan scent, Runningwind found the strength to roll, squashing the cat clinging to his spine on the ground, receiving a squawk as the only indication as to who the cat was.

Shaking free and scrambling to his paws in a _very_ undignified manner, Runningwind gaped in surprise. _Tigerclaw_!

The patrol, _finally_ catching up as to what was going on, exploded into battle somewhere behind him. Runningwind already knew that they had lost sight of him. They were farther back in the ferns, whilst he was closer to the Thunderpath, too out in the open, able to feel each monster as it roared by without hesitation. He was open to his enemy, an easy target, and his death would not be swift. There was no time to call back to his Clanmates and yowl for help; Tigerclaw would take advantage of his distraction and rip his throat open with a single swipe.

Both toms began circling around each other on the limited stretch of grass, neither flinching as another monster shrieked by. Eyes of pure ice met a gaze of dark amber, both cats bristling and snarling with hostility.

Tigerclaw broke the standstill. He leaped first, claws outstretched, maw bared in a twisted snarl.

The great tabby rogue was thin, but his body still housed the power that he had been known for. He missed Runningwind, for the ThunderClan tom was still faster than Tigerclaw could ever be, but the rogue was faster. He whirled quickly, his back paws extended, thrusting against Runningwind’s chest hard enough to wind him. Reeling backwards, Runningwind gaped for air. If those claws had been any closer, his neck would have been slashed!

That _must_ have been what Tigerclaw was aiming for. His long, sharp, dangerous claws caught the dying rays of the sun as he bowled Runningwind over, pinning the ThunderClan warrior down. Runningwind writhed amongst the gravely strip beside the Thunderpath, fear sucking at his strength and blinding him. His desperation got the best of him and he flailed, trying to shove Tigerclaw off.

“I’m going to pick off that foxhearts warriors one – by – one,” Tigerclaw hissed, his hot breath close to Runningwind’s ear. “Starting with _you_. Greet StarClan for me, Runningwind!” 

A gurgling, strangled cry escaped Runningwind, blood filling his throat after Tigerclaw’s claws carved his neck open. His lower body thrashed, blood seeping over his neck fur. The taste of it was rank, burning the inside of his throat.

Though, his struggles began to quell as a soothing darkness began to lap at him like waves, the familiar voice of his mother ringing in his ears.

 _It’s not time for me, though, I still haven’t had kits. I didn’t do what I wanted to get done in my life. I still have so many things to do!_ Runningwind thought hazily, the image of Tigerclaw fading away as the powerful tomcat leapt into the undergrowth.

 _It’s your time, little one_. One – eye’s voice was a breath of love in his ear. _Come with me, my kit. You will feel at home with me once more._

His mother promised him. Her scent wreathed all around him, guiding him into the waiting paws of StarClan.


	7. what is forever?

A rasping purr can be heard from the lithe, frail black tom. His eyes are half – closed, enjoyment being sought from the familiar tongue grooming the fur that he couldn’t reach. Barley’s scent was overpowering, but it was comforting.

Both toms lay amongst the hay, tails entwined, bodies pressed close together. There was no pain here, no death. Ravenpaw was acutely aware that this was a memory, but he relished in it all the same. Barely was no longer with him; they were separate, for the first time in many seasons. Memories were the only way that Ravenpaw could be able to visit Barley. 

No pain existed within his stomach. There was no pain in his shoulder. There was no pain in any of his decisions, only love, only happiness. Living, and being mates with Barley was one of the best decisions that Ravenpaw had ever made in his entire life. 

He could _never_ imagine his life without the witty black – and – white tom.

And yet, he was going to have to wait for him. Here, in this memory, reliving the love that he had come to need like prey. Ravenpaw could feel the sun warm on his fur, feel Barley’s paw weighing down on his flank, hear the mice scuffling, and the birds chirping. Farm life was simple, it was easy. It was good. Good to him, and good for him. 

“Will you stay with me, Barley?” Ravenpaw askes abruptly, gazing back at his mate with wide, dark eyes. He knew the answer. He’s always known the answer.

“I will,” Barley answers without hesitation, touching his nose to Ravenpaw’s.

“Forever?”

“Forever.”


	8. loving is cold.

It wasn’t long before Ravenpaw grows still. The warmth from his fur begins to fade, being replaced by a cold that Barley had come to associate with one thing: death. His eyes, although closed, would forever remain blank and glassy. Ravenpaw was gone. 

A cry of anguish is the first sound that leaves him. He had known Ravenpaw was dying for quite some time. The pain in his belly had never gone away truly, and Barley knew that when cats got older, they got ill. Sometimes, ill enough that they never had recovered. That was what happened to Ravenpaw. His strength had been sapped away by the rock in his stomach until it killed him. 

Barley had never wanted to admit it, nor face up to it. If Ravenpaw was dying, how could he handle it? They had spent so many seasons together, gone through _so much_ together. Barley couldn’t stand the idea of losing him. How was he going to handle being alone? He had grown so used to having Ravenpaw around, having Ravenpaw to talk to and confide in. What was he to do all on his own . . . ?

Yet, as he shoved his nose desperately into Ravenpaw’s cold fur, trying to find his familiar, comforting scent, he found nothing but the scent of death.

Ravenpaw no longer smelled like Ravenpaw.

Aware of the SkyClan warriors pressing in to honor the loner that had helped them, Barley ripped his face from Ravenpaw’s fur and snarled at them waringly. This was _his_ vigil to sit, not theirs. He had loved Ravenpaw, taken care of him when ThunderClan had drove them out. He had been there through it all!

Not only had he lost his friend, he lost his mate.

Barley didn’t know how he was going to survive without him.


	9. you, me, and this deadly disease.

Hawkfrost glared at her with cold eyes. “You can’t love _me_ ,” he sneered. “It’s wrong. You’re alive, and I’m dead. Don’t you see the issue, or should I _spell it out_ for you?” His whiskers flicked, revealing to her that he was mocking her.

Ivypool dug her claws into the murky ground, fighting to stay in control fo herself. She wasn’t able to hide the way she had come to feel for him; he had made her feel special when Dovewing ignored her, and treated her as if she were the most talented cat in the Clan! Even though he was as awful as awful can be, the worst cat to love, she couldn’t help it.

Perhaps he had manipulated her into it. Perhaps he had intended for it to happen so he could use her. Perhaps it was an accident.

She didn’t know, and she didn’t care. Her head whirled with thoughts of him, and how he was in the beginning; treating her like she was the only cat in the world. 

“If loving you is wrong,” she meowed evenly, but didn’t get a chance to finish. 

“‘ _Then I don’t want to be right_ ’,” Hawkfrost rolled his eyes. “Really? You’re that lame, Ivypool?”

Ivypool recoiled as if he had struck her.

“You’re a mousebrain,” he growled. “ _What’ll Dovewing say when she finds out?_ ” He mocked her voice, tossing a glare over at her, and her anger spilled over.

“She’s been seeing Tigerheart!” She flashed at him. “What’s the difference here? You’re both in the Dark Forest! I know you turn yourself off when you’re around me, at least recently, you have. You toss me off to the other mentors because you don’t want to show such a ‘weakness’, as you would say it.”

“It is a weakness.” Hawkfrost managed to put in.

“It is _not_. It makes you fight harder for the ones you love.”

He stared at her, long and hard. She almost began quivering in fear underneath his cold, hard stare. She couldn’t read him, and sometimes, that was the scariest thing about being around him. 

“Go home.” Was all he said to her. “Don’t speak of this again.”


	10. gray wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just fucking finished dawn of the clans and i'm so fucking upset what the FUCK why did they have to kill gRAY WING.
> 
> / clears throat
> 
> i'm okay. ish. no. no i'm not.

“Thunder, it’s time to go.” 

Clear Sky’s fluffy, warm pelt was brushing against his, and Thunder couldn’t help the way that he shuddered. His father’s voice was exhausted, nothing more than a grieved murmur, and Thunder felt grief rise inside of him once more. As much as he hated to think of it, Gray Wing was still gone; his death would never be changed no matter what they did. He was going off to a better place. 

“All of us need to go back home.” Clear Sky continued, his voice cracking. Thunder felt a stab of annoyance at how his father was taking charge. “We can’t linger here. Wind Runner doesn’t need more mouths to feed, and Slate . . . well she deserves a chance to grieve in peace.” 

At the mention of her name, Slate gave a weak moan.

“This is _Gray Wing’s_ resting spot,” Thunder rasped, glaring at his father. He couldn’t help the argument that dwelled within him. “I’m not ready to go.” 

Once more, a muffled noise came from Slate. Thunder felt bad at continuously voicing what had just taken place, but he wasn’t leaving. 

Wind Runner poked her head to where the cats were gathered, sharing a glance with Clear Sky. “Go on, join your mother,” she mewed, motioning them towards Slate. Obediently, the kits cuddled into her side, offering her comfort and warmth. Thunder stared at his kin. They would never know Gray Wing like he had. 

Young Pebble Heart, whom had stayed for Gray Wing’s burial, had not lingered longer than he had to. The young tom had been so dejected, so worn down, and had gently refused an escort back to Tall Shadow’s camp. He had said he needed some time alone with his thoughts, and that he appreciated the offer.

The rest of Wind Runner’s group — no, her _Clan_ — could say their goodbyes after Gray Wing’s kin did. After Clear Sky, Jagged Peak, and Thunder had gone home. Many would be grieving for the wise tom.

“I’m not going home,” Jagged Peak murmured, his voice dull. He didn’t raise his gaze from his paws. “Holly and I . . . well, we want to live here, in WindClan, on the moor. Gray Wing did so much for me, he brought me here after I ran from the Tribe, and he took me in after my accident. I want to honor his memory like this. The moor is our home; it always will be. The wind will always remind me of him.”

Clear Sky looked at Jagged Peak, and Thunder detected hurt in his gaze. He willed for his father to hold his tongue, just so that their moment of bonding wouldn’t be ruined. Gray Wing wouldn’t have wanted them to fight, he’d want them to get along! Especially now.

“You know Wind Runner would accept you, Holly, and the kits within a heartbeat.” Thunder dipped his head to his elder kin. “I have to go home. Not now, but soon.” His tail swept over the grave, and his heart clenched painfully.

Gray Wing had done so much for him. When Clear Sky had turned him away, Gray Wing had nearly given up his place in Tall Shadow’s group for him. He’d protected him, fought for him, and defended him to all the cats who thought of him as a lesser. Even though he had hovered, been overly protective, Thunder appreciated it all in the long run.

Though he and Clear Sky were currently attempting to nurture a shabby attempt at a father – son bond, Thunder knew it could never compare to what he had had with Gray Wing.

“I just want to stay a little longer.” Thunder continued. Lightning Tail could handle everything back in the forest. Though, he’d have to pull Owl Eyes aside from the rest of the cats when he returned home, and bring him back to WindClan so that he could say his final goodbye. He assumed, and hoped, that Clear Sky would do the same for Sparrow Fur.

In a way, Gray Wing had been right when he had said that Thunder didn’t need him anymore. He wasn’t a kit anymore; he had a mate, and he was going to have kits on the way soon. But, even if he was fully grown, he would always need Gray Wing for guidance. He had always looked up to the wise gray tom. Gray Wing had so much love and guidance to share with all that only asked for it.

When they had rolled Gray Wing into his final grave at sunrise, Thunder’s heart had broken at the sight of the toms body. Gray Wing’s fur had been plastered to his sides, and he looked abnormally thin from his illness. What had truly destroyed Thunder’s resolve was the peaceful look that had gripped Gray Wing’s face. Unlike in the Great Battle, their friends had been buried with faces twisted into snarls and growls; maws wrenched and claws extended, eyes gleaming with the last light of battle. Gray Wing’s expression had simply reflected his last, loving moments, surrounded by those that he loved most.

He could still hear Gray Wing speaking of their ancestors, of Bright Stream and her unborn kits, of Turtle Tail, of so many others that had been gone for seasons. He understood why Gray Wing had felt at peace.

Thunder just hoped that when he finally went to where all the others had gone, he would receive the same greeting. He longed to see Storm again, and the littermates that he never knew. He still felt Hawk Swoop’s loss like a sharp thorn in his heart all over again. She had been his mother when no other cat could be, and he had gotten to the point of where he couldn’t even remember her sweet face. He hoped that, despite their lack of shared blood, she’d greet him, too.

“This feels so different.” Thunder spoke aloud. “During the Great Battle, after we lost them all, they didn’t look to be at peace like Gray Wing did.”

“Gray Wing had a vastly different death.” Jagged Peak said boldly, and Slate flinched. Thunder forgot that she hadn’t been present for their infighting. “He was surrounded by his kin, and his closest family. I just wish Quiet Rain was here to tell us that it’s going to be okay.”

“He’s with Quiet Rain now, and Fluttering Bird,” Clear Sky answered. Thunder pressed against his father reassuringly. “And Moon Shadow, Shaded Moss, Bright stream . . . every other cat we’ve lost.” Clear Sky’s voice was heavy with grief. “We’ve lost so much, _too_ much.” 

“Gray Wing’s death was the last straw.” Thunder agreed. “No more rogues, no more fighting, no more death. It’s time for this all to end. He’s the last. He _has_ to be the last.”

Thunder knew that Jagged Peak and Clear Sky were thinking the same as him; all of this happened because Clear Sky had been such an arrogant mousebrain, and had tried to run all of their groups. If only he had been kinder, and more ready to accept outside advice, Gray Wing wouldn’t have needed to dive into the flames to help him and his group out, and he wouldn’t have gotten this strange illness. If he hadn’t gotten this sickness, he wouldn’t be lying dead in the grave.

But, could it have gone any other way?

_Thank you, Gray Wing, for being a father to me when Clear Sky couldn’t. Thank you for loving Storm, thank you for coming to rescue her, and ending up rescuing me instead. Thank you for putting your life on the line so many times. Thank you for loving me like I was your own son._

Thunder closed his eyes.

_Live forever amongst the stars, and I hope you always have enough prey to keep your belly full, and that you have no ailments. Goodbye, Gray Wing._


	11. for deadly nightshade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck i love these two so fuckin' much.
> 
> idk what this is but DAMN i ship them.

Fresh pain welled in Rowanberry’s dark eyes. She stood, maw parted, looking as if she were at a loss for words. She couldn’t respond to him, couldn’t find her voice to speak. He couldn’t blame her; he didn’t even know what _he_ wanted to say.

“Clawface,” she tried, her voice breaking. “Why?”

The tom couldn’t find a response that would give her all the answers. His gaze was drawn to their sons, Stumpypaw wand Cinderpaw, sensing the dark emotion of betrayal in their gazes. If it weren’t for the ThunderClan cats having ganged up with ShadowClan to drive their little group out, Clawface would have already fled by now. But the chaos of all the fighting allotted him the chance to say goodbye. 

Darting forward, Clawface brushed his muzzle against Rowanberry’s, feeling her shudder beside him. She seemed to instinctively press herself against him, her fur so warm and so familiar. It was agony to pull himself away, muscles bunched to run.

“Take care of our sons,” he whispered, seeing her head jerk up with surprise.

“No, don’t — no!”  Rowanberry took a step after him, her gaze wild with fear. “Please, stay! If you repent, surely our next leader will let you make it up for siding with Brokenstar.”

Sadly, Clawface shook his head. “It’s too late for redemption, for forgiveness. I truly am sorry, Rowanberry. I can’t do right by you anymore, and I hate it. Please, take care of them.”

“I’ve already lost so much,” she whispered, “how do you expect me to be able to let you leave?” Rowanberry’s words were partially drowned out by a screech. Her grief tore at Clawface’s heart. 

“I can’t say it enough, Rowanberry. I’m sorry.” He backed towards a gap in the camp wall, his gaze spotted Nightpelt. His littermate had his teeth embedded in a rogue’s scruff, his claws ripping through the rogue’s thick fur.

“ _I love you_ ,” Rowanberry mouthed, and Clawface held onto that for the rest of his short life.

The one good thing he had ever done was become mates with her.


	12. darkness, darkness everywhere.

“Blossomfall,” an unfamiliar voice hums. The tortoiseshells ears twitch, but she doesn’t wake. “Blossomfall,” it repeats itself, and Blossomfall snorts, burying her muzzle underneath her forepaws. She wasn’t on the dawn patrol; she could sleep some more!

“Blossomfall!” 

Finally, Blossomfall jerks her head up, eyes narrowing as starlight fills the area she was in. She scrunched up her eyes, her claws sinking into the ground underneath her, realizing that she was _not_ in the warriors den. Once the initial surprise ebbs off, she opens her eyes, awe filling her at the silvery, starry form that stood in front of her.

This, clearly, was a dream. Not the type that she was used to, but a dream all the same. 

“Who are you?” Blossomfall asked, almost afraid of the answer. 

“My name is Feathertail,” the starry she – cat padded over, curling her tail across Blossomfall’s shoulders. Her eyes were hauntingly beautiful, and Blossomfall almost felt . . . plain, in comparison. 

“ _Oh_ ,” she breathed. “You’re —”

“Yes.” Feathertail brushed her tail across Blossomfall’s maw. “Be silent, now. You’re amongst kin. Come, walk with me.” 

Feeling strangely compelled to follow after her half – sister, Blossomfall rose to her paws and padded behind her, watching as the scenery changed from a beautiful, flowery meadow to a near – silent, rushing river. Feathertail hopped up onto a rock, sitting down smoothly with her plumy tail wrapped around her paws, gaze turned to the water. Every so often, her tailtip would twitch, and Blossomfall watched in amazement as her dainty paw darted out into the water and scooped up a fish in a high arc. It landed upon the bank, dead.

“Eat,” Feathertail invited.

Cautiously, Blossomfall dipped her head to the fish, taking a wary mouthful. Unfamiliar flavors exploded in her mouth, and she was surprised to find that she didn’t quite mind it. Finishing her mouthful, she looked at Feathertail, trying to find a way to put her feelings into words.

“Why am I here?” Blossomfall finally asked, wondering if this was just a prelude to her punishment for training in the Dark Forest. 

“It’s not for punishment, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Feathertail rose to her paws, stretching her long body. Her back legs quivered with the effort. “This is a dream for forgiveness. You did the right thing, siding with your Clanmates when the time came. The training can be forgiven.” 

Blossomfall studied her paws. “I shouldn’t have —”

“Hush.” Feathertail’s gaze was stern. “What you did was only because of your jealousy. I never had the fortune of knowing my mother.” 

“Why is that?” Blossomfall blurted the question out, immediately regretting it. Graystripe never spoke of his first mate, and he barely mentioned Stormfur, their living half – brother. He said that it was all in the past, and that Millie and his kits with her were his future.

“My mother, Silverstream, died kitting my brother Stormfur and I. All we had was Graystripe, and the queens that offered to be our foster mothers when we were still young enough to nurse. Graystripe did not belong in RiverClan; we knew that just as well as he did. Stormfur and I were all that we had when we grew up.” She blinked. “I got to know Silverstream after I died. She loved my brother and I very much, but it was not her destiny to raise us.” Feathertail sat down once more. “But, you grew up with Millie _and_ Graystripe; you grew up loved and wanted, and that has not changed.”

Blossomfall couldn’t find the strength to look up at Feathertail. She knew she shouldn’t be jealous of Briarlight, but it was just _so difficult!_ Millie spent all her time with her, seeming to forget that Blossomfall and Bumblestripe even existed. “I —”

“I _know_ ,” Feathertail gently rested her chin atop Blossomfall’s head. She was surprised at how natural it felt, how Feathertail’s scent seemed so familiar. Instinctively, as if she were tucked up against her mother back in the nursery, Blossomfall closed her eyes. “Millie still loves you, so very much.” Feathertail breathed. “She loves you, Bumblestripe, and Briarlight equally; I am so, so, sorry that this was used against you to get you into the Dark Forest.”

“I shouldn’t have accepted their offer,” Blossomfall whispered mournfully. “I should have realized . . .”

“You couldn’t have.” Feathertail gave Blossomfall’s ear comforting lick as she pulled away. Her starry form was beginning to fade. “StarClan still watches over you. Have faith in your mother, Blossomfall. No matter what you might think, your parents love you . . .”

Feathertail’s form gave one more starry, beautiful shimmer, and then completely disappeared. Blossomfall hardly had any time to say something before she was waking up beside Ivypool, gaze automatically adjusting to the darkness of the warriors den.


	13. loss, twice felt.

Crashing through the undergrowth blindly, Brambleclaw ran as fast as he could towards the ThunderClan camp. He could hear screeches of agony, hear voices of all kinds combined and intermingling into one. He thought that he had heard a few of his Clanmates, Cloudtail, maybe even Foxleap, but he couldn’t be too sure.

He was heading away from the camp now, his heart heavy in his chest. Poor Ivypool had witnessed Hollyleaf’s sacrifice under Hawkfrost’s malicious claws. Her death still sat badly within him, and he ached with a numbing grief that only a father could feel. He could still see her beautiful green eyes staring sightlessly, her blood pooled around her body and clumping her dark fur. Hawkfrost would _pay_ for this. 

“ _Why_ are you asking?” A familiar voice breezed against Brambleclaw’s earfur, and he instinctively dropped into a stealthy crouch. His aching muscles screamed in protest, but the deputy forced himself to remain still for a moment to gather his bearings. Prowling forward, Brambleclaw followed the sound of angered voices until he came upon a scene that he never thought he’d see, fighting back the urge to launch himself forward with his maw bared and his claws extended so far that they ached. 

Tigerstar had Goldenflower pinned down, his long, curved claws dug deep into her neck. The golden queen was gaping, her amber eyes rolling wildly in her head. She was feebly scrabbling at Tigerstar, but it was to no avail. His weight was far greater, and he had the upper paw. The Dark Forest warrior simply had Brambleclaw’s StarClan loyal mother overpowered. Brambleclaw doubted that his mother had the strength to fight off her ex – mate. 

“Tigerstar —” Goldenflower choked, and Tigerstar dug his claws further into her neck. “ _Stop_ ,” she clawed desperately against him once more, her paws missing his longer ones by foxtails. Brambleclaw’s heart shattered in two. He knew that if he lunged, he’d only succeed in getting himself killed. He was completely torn; he wanted to help his mother, to save her from Tigerstar’s clutches, but he couldn’t afford to die here! Goldenflower could handle Tigerstar — she _had_ to be able to handle him.

“You _know_ I loved you,” Tigerstar’s voice cracked. This was the first sign of real emotion that Brambleclaw had ever heard from his father in his life. He could have been fooled into thinking that Tigerstar _did_ have a heart, underneath all the layers of darkness that shrouded him. “Why didn’t you _follow_ me? You could have had _everything_! I could have given _them_ everything! Brambleclaw, Hawkfrost, Mothwing, Tawnypelt — I could have given them the _lives that they deserved_!”

“The kits . . . were safer in ThunderClan than . . . _with you_.” Goldenflower wheezed. Her struggles were getting weaker.

Brambleclaw’s brain screamed at him to leap into the fray, to bowl his father off, but he wasn’t strong enough! Furiously, he curled his claws into the blood – soaked grass, the air stuck in his chest. He could hardly stand to listen as Goldenflower went on. 

“They needed protection from . . . your enemies . . . and _you_.” She shuddered involuntarily.

“They had _me_.” Tigerstar snarled. “They always needed _me_ more than _you_. You were soft and weak, and I’m _strong_. They would have been like me.” Goldenflower’s silvery – red blood was beginning to pool around his paws. “I could have raised them, protected them. I could have made them _great_. You stole that from me, you stole that from _them_.” He pulled himself off of her, disgusted. Brambleclaw could see the deep, rapidly oozing rivulets in her neck from where Tigerstar had torn through her fur and into her flesh. “You were always weak anyway. I did love you, Goldenflower. I did. But you showed me where your loyalties truly lay when you refused to follow me.”

As Brambleclaw was shoving his broad shoulders through the brambles, his fur tearing on the sharp barbs and ripping from his pelt, Tigerstar’s tail was already disappearing through the brushes towards ThunderClan’s camp. Brambleclaw didn’t have the strength nor the resolution to follow his father just yet.

It was pertinent to put his paws on Goldenflower’s neck, where the wounds were the worst. The rest of her beautiful pelt was torn with other wounds, wounds that were too shallow to have been inflicted by Tigerstar. She had to have been a part of the fight for as long as Brambleclaw himself had been. 

Goldenflower’s amber eyes flew open and were wide with shock as she saw him, her mouth opening, only to have blood trickle out. She choked, the whites of her eyes showing as she gazed at him, a lifetime of sadness and love reflecting in her gaze.

“Goldenflower, please, don’t go,” Brambleclaw begged, his paws warm and sticky from her blood. He was desperately inhaling her familiar, sweet scent. Her blood was streaming out endlessly out underneath his paws, and her starry form was weakening. “ _Please_.” 

Her mouth was moving, but no sound came out. Her eyes were rimmed with white, only white. Goldenflower gave one final, terrified shudder, and then fell ominously still. There wasn’t anything left to bury. As soon as she fell still, as her heart stopped beating and the air left her lungs, her body began to fade until it was completely gone from his sight. Nothing was left of her except for the starry shimmer of her blood, mimicking the form of the lake that Brambleclaw had come to love.

The ThunderClan deputy made a choked, keening sound, his claws flexing into the pool still at his paws. It was still warm. His legs weren’t strong enough to hold himself up, and he let himself fall, a moan leaving his maw. He had mourned his mother once, when her heart had failed during her sleep and the elders brought her body out to the middle of camp. 

Leafpool had rubbed Goldenflower down with herbs, rearranged her paws so that it looked as if she had been asleep, and Brambleclaw hadn’t moved from his mother’s side from the moment the vigil had started. Graystripe had taken over deputy duties for the day, and no one bothered Brambleclaw whilst he mourned.

His maw had been buried in her fur, inhaling the rank scent of death underneath the sickly – sweet scent of herbs. His mother had been ridiculed and hated for her relationship with Tigerstar, for the love that she bore his kits and her own. She had lost so much; Lynxkit, Swiftpaw, Tanwypelt, Lionheart, Bluestar, Rosetail, Speckletail, Snowkit, Tigerstar — and Brambleclaw had had the sneaking suspicion that she had only clung to her life for him, back when she was still alive. Fearing how the Clan would treat him if she were going to die, clinging to whatever strength she had left solely for his sake.

Once dawn had come, when Longtail draped his tail across Brambleclaw’s shoulders and murmured in his ear, Brambleclaw had awoken. He hadn’t even realized he had drifted off, and guilt had pricked at him. His head had been resting on Goldenflower’s cold flank, eyes screwed shut, Squirrelflight pressed in on his other side and providing him with warmth. His fur was ruffled from the bitter chill, and his heart had ached as he forced himself away, doing nothing but watching as Longtail and Mousefur treated his mother with the respect that she deserved.

And now . . . he had lost her once more.

 


	14. the nine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first time i wrote this fic, i hadn't read bramblestar's leadership ceremony but idc this is still sticking around bc i am sad asf

“Just lay down, lap at the water, and close your eyes.” Jayfeather ordered, his voice firm. “Relax, Brambleclaw. They will come to you. They haven’t failed you before.”

That wasn’t why Brambleclaw was shifting his paws, reluctant to share with StarClan. He had put off his ceremony because of how many of his Clanmates had died, and because the Clan needed his support. There just hadn’t been time to make a trip to the Moonpool! But, Jayfeather had told him that he needed to assume the suffix of _star_ and his lives. He needed the blessing that only StarClan could offer him. It was the only way to get the other leaders to respect him, when it came time for the next Gathering. The Clan needed a strong leader, too, so that meant he had to get a move on.

Onestar had been respectful in allowing Brambleclaw to pass over his lands to get to the Moonpool. Crowfeather and Whitetail had escorted Jayfeather and Brambleclaw towards the steep ridge that signified that they were close. The four cats had walked together comfortably before finally bidding goodbye, wishing each other good luck before parting ways. Each of them were still traumatized over what had happened, but had already grown used to working together to defeat the enemy that threatened them all.

Brambeclaw found himself missing the easy friendship that he, Crowfeather, Feathertail, Squirrelflight, Tawnypelt, and Stormfur used to share. The little walk was enough to bring back pleasant memories, but enough to remind Brambleclaw of how much had changed. Stormfur, living with the Tribe and brook; two kits being born to them, their family tight – knit and young. Feathertail, dead. Crowfeather, the real father to his foster kits and grumpier than ever. Tawnypelt, a mother to two living kits and a deceased one. Squirrelflight, his ex – mate, and . . . 

Well, the rest summed itself up.

Slowly, angling himself down to lay comfortably on the stones, Brambleclaw felt Jayfeather lay beside him as he lapped at the water. It was ice cold. Tucking his paws underneath him, Brambleclaw set his head down on the freezing stone, letting the gentle waves lap against his chin. Exhaling and trying to relax, Brambleclaw forced his eyes to close, waiting.

When heartbeats passed and he was sure that he was still awake, he cracked an eye open, immediately shutting it due to the sharp, white light that tempted to blind him.

“Brambleclaw,” one voice that sounded like many all at once spoke to him. “Rise. Greet us.”

Forcing himself onto his shaky paws, Brambleclaw opened his eyes, finding himself in awe as his mind struggled to take in what was before him. Tens of starry cats were standing along the Moonpool, their pelts brushing and their eyes gentle. He would have presumed he were just dreaming if not for what had happened less than a moon prior to this. He could already pick out Yellowfang, and the now – familiar form of ThunderClan’s first leader, Thunderstar. His heart pounded in worry at the thought of the faded, ancient leader watching over his leadership ceremony.

Was that a good or a bad thing? Brambleclaw honestly couldn’t tell. He avoided the starry toms gaze to the best of his ability, knowing that he would not like what he would find the leaders eyes. He could feel Thunderstar staring at him. His pelt was hot.

“Step forward,” one voice spoke, and Brambleclaw couldn’t tell who it was. 

Glancing back at Jayfeather, Brambleclaw was surprised to see that his foster son was gazing at him, his blue eyes clear. Jayfeather could clearly see what was happening. The young medicine cat gestured to the cat standing before him, a strange amused glow in his wry hues. Figuring that he do well to listen to Jayfeather, Brambleclaw tried to steady himself to face what was coming.

Taking a deep breath, Brambleclaw stepped onto the rippling water of the Moonpool, surprised to find that the water held his weight. Almost as if it were frozen, it held him up, but Brambleclaw could not fight the anxiety that told him that he would fall. Albeit, as he padded closer to the unfamiliar cat, he began to make out the distinct features of Flametail; his fiery pelt now hued with silver, reassuring dark eyes, his plumy tail kinked over his back, his proud head raised. He looked so much like a younger version of Rowanclaw that it startled Brambleclaw. Still, his young kin was clearly at ease here. 

He’d have to tell Tawnypelt that Flametail had gifted him with a life, next time he saw her. 

“Brambleclaw,” Flametail greeted. “You have been strong, enduring what most could not.” His voice was steady, wisdom lighting his voice. Flametail took a step closer, to the point of where the two toms stood almost nose – to – nose. “I give you this life for endurance. Endure for your Clan. Carry for them. You are all that they have now.”

Flametail touched his nose to Brambleclaw’s, and immediately, Brambleclaw felt agony rush through him. His claws unsheathed and furled into the water, and his maw opened in agony, eyes screwing shut. The pain began to subside as a surge of energy washed through his body. He felt as if he were emotionally strong enough to carry every single cat in ThunderClan, and all the ones that were yet to come. Brambleclaw instinctively stood taller, finding that despite the fact that his claws were furled into the image of the Moonpool beneath him, they were dry.

When he lifted his gaze to thank Flametail, the young tom was already padding away. His tail was curled over his back, his paws leaving no prints upon the water. Feathertail had replaced him. It took all of Brambleclaw’s strength not to lean forward and drink in her sweet, familiar scent. Her death still pained him in ways that he could never explain.

He hadn’t expected her to be one of the ones that gave him a life He wasn’t disappointed. Although he would never love the silver tabby like Crowfeather did, he still loved her like he loved Tawnypelt. Stormfur, Feathertail, Brambleclaw and Tawnypelt all had long history together; nursed at Goldenflower’s stomach before Graystripe’s kits had been taken to RiverClan. They were connected as kin, and always would be.

Brambleclaw was thankful that she was giving him a life.

“Old friend,” Feathertail breathed, her voice sounding like petals falling off a flower, “we encountered so much on our journey to the sundrown place.” Her blue gaze softened, s if she could read his mind. “Do not blame yourself for a death that was meant to happen; my destiny, from the dawn of the Tribe, was to save them from Sharptooth. I would not have it any other way.” 

“But, I —” Brambleclaw protested, but Feathertail cut him off. 

“Hush,” she crooned. “I give you a life for faith. Always have faith in yourself, your Clan, and in StarClan. Times will become hard once more. Believe me, they will, but your faith will get you through it. Darkness shall not last forever. We, as StarClan, can help make your path clearer.”

Feathertail had to reach up to rest her head atop of his, and this time, Brambleclaw felt as if he were walking on air. He had a whole Clan to lead; kits, apprentices, medicine cats, warriors, elders — they were all depending on him! He couldn’t fail them! Giddy, he flexed his paws and stretched, reveling in the weightlessness that webbed along his muscles. Feathertail whispered something to him, but Brambleclaw couldn’t make it out over the sound of the rushing in his ears.

Too soon, she pulled away, curling her tail underneath his chin as she returned to the starry ranks of cats. She sat beside an identical silver tabby, which made Brambleclaw wonder if it was her mother, Silverstream. 

 _Find forgiveness in your heart_ , her voice was gentle inside of his head. _For you are capable of forgiving crimes that were committed against you_.

Brambleclaw knew what she was talking about. He didn’t think he was ready yet to forgive Squirrelflight, and he doubted that they would ever be mates again. But for the sake of the Clan, he must be civil towards her. 

 _I’ll try, Feathertail._ He promised. _I’ll do my best_.

As he waited for the third cat, Brambleclaw’s gaze instinctively searched for Goldenflower. He searched for Swiftpaw, his half – brother, and for Lynxkit, the young kit that had died when Swiftpaw was born. His heart sank when he didn’t see any of them. He remembered his fruitless task of trying to save his mother from bleeding out, and only succeeding in watching as she faded from existence entirely. The thought that no life would come from his close kin made Brambleclaw feel even lonelier than he had when he was young. Amongst StarClan, he had no kin that he knew. They wouldn’t come to greet him when he joined their ranks.

He was alone, in that regard.

Instead of a cat that he knew, a black unknown she – cat came out from amongst the other StarClan cats. He had not seen her at first; she must have been hidden from his view. It was not Hollyleaf, Brambleclaw realized a moment too late. His hope to see her again died as quickly as it had risen. He did not know this cat.

“I am Leopardfoot, Tigerstar’s mother,” she began in a silky voice once she was close enough. “I gave birth to him, Mistkit, and Nightkit. My daughters were too weak to survive. I gave my only son the name of the tiger to give him strength. I did not want to lose all of my kits, so soon after losing my mate.” Her green eyes were shadowed with grief, and Brambleclaw felt a pang of pity for her. “I did not know that he would become the monster that he did,” her eyes grew darker. “Maybe if I hadn’t been a soft mother, maybe if Bluestar had mentored him as opposed to Thistleclaw, maybe if Pinestar had stayed to give his final life to the Clan, then my son would not have become the way that he did. I don’t know what could have changed to make him good, but, I still loved him and forgave his mistakes. His faults. I stressed over what could have been done differently until my dying days. It wasn’t until I joined StarClan that I realized that there was nothing that could have been done: he was destined to become a nursery tale that mothers tell their kits to keep them in line.”  

Brambleclaw was speechless, unsure of what to say to justify his father. He had nothing. 

Leopardfoot sensed his lack of words, and swept on. “Brambleclaw,” she spoke his name with a love that only a mother would have, “I give you this life for a mothers love. You must know how fierce it is to love a kit.” Her eyes glowed as her voice grew stronger. Leopardfoot leaned in, her breath warm on his ear. “You may have lost one, but you still have two others; there will come a time when you will know that love again. That fierce, unyielding love that grants you the strength to fight until something crushes you for good.” 

She touched their noses, and this time, Brambleclaw was ready. He had braced himself for it, only muttering the smallest gasp of surprise, his eyes stretching wise. He could just barely see her small, black paws padding away as his pain ebbed, and he was able to regain his strength. He had never felt such a vivid need to protect before. He longed to claw every enemy that dared come close to his kits, and rage awoke one more inside of his chest. Killing Hawkfrost a second time had not been enough to ease the grief inside of him. His half – brother had had no right to kill Hollyleaf as he had!

His paws were shaking. He still could hear Hollyleaf’s weak voice as she accepted Leafpool as her mother, and hear his own wail of grief as she died. She would always be his little thinker, no matter what.

Black paws caught his attention, and he raised his head sharply. His foster daughter was looking at him with a sense of pride in her eyes. She looked more like his little thinker than the crazed warrior that had revealed the truth of her birth at the Gathering. Nostalgia flooded him, and he resisted the urge to shut his eyes and revel in it. Brambleclaw tried to open his mouth to speak to her, to tell her how sorry he was, but she spoke first, her emerald gaze flashing with an unspoken warning.

“I do not blame you for what happened, for how you were deceived,” Hollyleaf began. “You were blameless. You, Brambleclaw of ThunderClan, were more of a father to us than Crowfeather ever was. _You_ are my father.” She touched his nose with her own, and he felt the waves of her forgiveness and love crash into him. “I give you this life for sacrifice; you have nine lives, your Clanmates do not. If you can, sacrifice your lives, let them know that you are looking out for them. Let them know that their lives are more important than your own.”

“Hollyleaf,” Brambleclaw croaked out, fighting through the agony of the life to speak. His muscles screamed at him to stop tensing, to stop trying to speak, but he wanted to explicitly tell Hollyleaf how much she had meant to him, how he had adored her; how she had been one of the most important beings in his life.

“Shh, your ceremony is not over yet.” Hollyleaf padded past him, clearly making her way towards Jayfeather. There would be other words to share with her.

A large, proud golden tom was heading towards him. His head and shoulders were broad, and his amber eyes gleamed with a familiarity that shocked Brambleclaw. He almost instinctively leaned towards him, but managed to remain still, wary, and unfortunately confused.

“My name is Lionheart. I am Goldenflower’s littermate.” The tom rumbled. “I was a mentor to young Firestar for a time, as was your father.” Lionheart blinked, his whiskers twitching. “I did not have the good fortune of meeting you before I was killed.” He didn’t give Brambleclaw the chance to say anything. Frustration had begun to build within him, but he fought it back for the sake of the ceremony.

“I give you this life for strength. Remember, it is not just you that you are carrying now; you must have the strength to protect your Clan. Use your claws, your words, your teeth; protect them. Be strong for them. Be what they need.”

Energy as sharp as a claw surged through Brambleclaw. He felt as if he could run all the way back to camp and be there by sunrise, and then flat out sprint towards RiverClan. His paws itched to be moving, and his claws ached to be embedded in fur and flesh; ready to take on the next enemy as it appeared itself to him. He didn’t have long to relish in the energy before it faded, leaving him feeling strangely empty without it.

His mothers presence disappeared with Lionheart. She never spoke of him, and Brambleclaw wondered why. Had it been too painful for her? He couldn’t ever imagine losing Tawnypelt.

The familiar form of Whitestorm replaced the comforting, warm form of Lionheart. “Brambleclaw,” the wise tom greeted with a dip of his head. Brambleclaw greeted him the same way, never taking his eyes off the color of sun – baked sand. He clearly remembered attacking Bone in revenge for Whitestorm’s death, his claws driven by fury.

“I know how you were raised. I grew up with Tigerstar; we were almost like littermates. My father, Thistleclaw, was his mentor. My father towards the end, was much like yours. He was . . . his death was a blessing to ThunderClan. My beloved Clan would have perished more than it already did if he were allowed to survive for any longer. We are more alike than you would ever think, young Brambleclaw. Our fathers were great warriors, albeit very flawed, and they had the chance to be something better. They did not take it, as we both can easily see. That was their own fault, not ours.” 

The white tomcat stretched forward, his face growing closer. “I give you this life for pride. Wear your fathers mistakes on your pelt like a second skin; do not shy from them, learn from them. They will, and have, made you the cat that you are.”

This time, Brambleclaw groaned as he resisted the urge to shrink back into his own pelt. Whitestorm’s life was violent; it felt as if thousands of eyes were pinpointed upon him, judging him for what Tigerstar had done. Eyes that pierced past his fur and into his core, his soul; tearing it to utter shreds. He felt examined and violated, as if all the cats in the four Clans and ever cat in StarClan had seen every little thing that he had done, what he had endured, all of the ridicules and the mistrust. Brambleclaw curled his claws into the water below once more, distracting himself with the way that his claws seemed to ghost right through the icy water, not disrupting it. The force of the life ebbed as he took his mind off of it, instead choosing to focus upon his breathing. He had to be ready for the next one.

“You are strong,” Longtail purred. The handsome tabby was standing before him, his sightless eyes bright and filled with youth. He looked young and strong, much like the warrior who had been forced to retire far too soon. “Brambleclaw, I give you this life for sight; even in your darkest moments, know that there is still life to be lived. Still souls to be forgiven. Paths to be crossed. See what matters, see the truth, see past everything that tries to make itself an obstacle to you and your goal.”

Longtail’s life felt like a flood of intelligence. Brambleclaw relished in the warm feeling that spread inside of him, and he closed his eyes, his maw parting as his stiff muscles relaxed. He knew the last two lives were going to be rough, and this was just his little break. He thanked his ancestors mentally for giving him the chance to recover, even briefly.

“Brambleclaw,” a gray – and – black tom was standing tall, blue eyes focused. _Sootfur_! Brambleclaw still felt a twinge of regret at how the young tom had died; his legs mangled, his sight stolen, his last moments spend in utter agony. “Do not pity my last living seconds. Do not think of it as a mistake. It was my time, and it was my death to bear. Karmic dues, my friend.” The tom grinned. “I give you this life for fear. Fear is natural It is the best thing you can feel; it means that you are still alive. Feel your fear, Brambleclaw. Do not run from it.”

Sootfur touched his now to Brambleclaw’s, and Brambleclaw just barely held back a screech. His entire body trembled as shockingly strong fear filled every limb, every crevice and corner of his body, ripping his chest to shreds. His lungs felt as if his ribs were collapsing upon them. His eyes rolled, and his muscles tensed to the point of where he feared he’d strain them. How could this be a life? He wanted to cry out, to beg Sootfur to take it back, but the tom was already rejoining the ranks. He was curling amongst a tabby gray she – cat who looked on with pride. Through his fear, Brambleclaw did not recognize her. But her eyes were too similar to Sootfur’s. She had to be his, Rainwhisker’s, and Sorreltail’s mother.

Once he could breathe again, and stand upright without his legs threatening to give out, Brambleclaw searched with unease for the last cat. He was almost done; his agony was almost over. 

It was Firestar. Brambleclaw wasn’t surprised. The regal flame – colored tom was padding up, his fiery coat thick and lush. He swayed with pride, his green gaze partially restoring Brambleclaw’s strength.

“My apprentice, my warrior, my deputy,” Firestar greeted, his head bowing lowly. “You have proved yourself in so many ways, and I am proud to see that you are ThunderClan’s leader. You have done so much to prove yourself and your loyalty to the Clan, and I can say that in the end, you were more like a son to me than my enemies kin.”

“Firestar . . .” Brambleclaw was touched, but this was not the time. He could see the stern look in Firestar’s gaze, telling him that he was not supposed to speak. He was reminded of his apprentice days, in which Firestar could easily silence him with a look. Clearly, Firestar shared this memory was well, for his emerald gaze shone with amusement. But it soon dispersed once he spoke again. 

“I give you this life for hope.” There was no explanation that came with it, no comforting words. Brambleclaw knew what it was for. It was just a blaze of warmth inside of him, stretching to every crevice, telling him that hope was it; it was his final life, his ninth. New – found strength restored him, and he greedily leaned into feeling of strength spreading through him. Firestar was watching him with an expression of restored pride, his gaze gentle.

“You are ThunderClan’s leader now. This is no easy task, Bramble _star_ ; you have to put the Clan back together. Many have been lost, but many have also been found; you have the strength you need to carry them. Clouds will not hide the sky forever. I do not envy your burden. You are strong enough to bear it.” Firestar tipped his head back, beginning the call.

“ _Bramblestar! Bramblestar! Bramblestar_!”

Bramblestar could see the nine that gave him his lives, as well as many others whom had come to pass. Brindleface, Dappletail, Bluestar, Redtail, Snowkit, Hollykit, Larchkit, Speckletail, Rainwhisker, Sorreltail, Ferncloud, Foxleap, Frostfur, Shrewpaw — so many familiar faces of so many cats that he loved, all calling his name; supporting him as leader. Even Thunderstar had his head tilted back, his mouth forming Bramblestar’s new name, giving his clear show of support. Behind him, Bramblestar could see other ThunderClan leaders stretching out: Pinestar, Redstar, Sunstar, Owlstar — all leaders whom were beginning to fade, but had made an effort to come to the ceremony. His entire being fizzed with the energy of their support, of what it meant to be a leader.

Bramblestar closed his eyes, relishing in the sound of his new name. The word seemed to echo all around the Moonpool, and he could hear Jayfeather calling behind him. This was not a time for sadness, but a time for strength; he was ThunderClan’s leader. He had support. 

He _could_ pull them out of the dark.


	15. another leader.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> am i angry? YES I AM ANGRY A VISION OF SHADOWS IS STRESSING ME OUT

“So?” Onestar pressed closer to Whitetail, his fur reassuringly brushing hers. “Are you upset with me?” 

Levelly, Whitetail raised her head from off her paws, meeting Onestar’s gaze directly. “No.” She said firmly, watching as the leader sagged with relief. “I’m not upset. More like . . . disappointed that you never saw fit to confide in me, but, not upset.” She sighed, struggling to push away the memories of how small and frail Onestar had been when he had confessed to his Clan and the other leaders. Rage had burned white - hot inside of her then, but since then she had realized that she needed to calm. 

Onestar had been young and stupid; he had been lacking skills around warriors that were far better than he, and he decided to play the field. It wasn’t his fault. Sure, he had done a bad thing by turning Smoke away and thus creating the monster that tore at their borders today, but he hadn’t known what he would do. 

In the end, it had been a good thing; SkyClan was back where they belonged, whatever that might mean, and the Clans were finally reunited as they should be. 

“I never meant to hurt anyone.” Onestar’s voice was meek. “I never meant for any of this to happen.” 

“I know,” Whitetail whispered. It was hard for her to remember that he was her leader sometimes, rather than her mate. “But what’s done is done.” 

Silence settled between them. Feeling the need to comfort him more, Whitetail moved so that she was curled around him, deciding to rasp her tongue across his ears to groom his messy fur. He hadn’t been taking care of himself since WindClan closed their borders, and though Whitetail hadn’t agreed with the initial decision, she now knew why he had done it, and that was all she had been asking for. She had a bad feeling about the mornings battle, albeit. Although she could no longer take part in battles, for she had grown too old to fight properly, she still could remain in camp for moral support.

“Please be careful tomorrow,” she murmured into his fur, feeling a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over her. “I can’t lose you.” 

“I _have_ to be the one who kills Darktail,” Onestar’s voice suddenly got strong. A fire burned in his amber eyes, and for the first time, Whitetail recognized the cat she had fallen in love with as his apprentice. “I brought him into this world. I will be the one who takes him out of it.” 

Whitetail flattened her ears. “You have one life left,” she protested, “please, if not for me, then for your Clan.” 

“They don’t believe in me anymore.” The light in Onestar’s eyes died. “This is the one way I can redeem myself to them.” 

“ _Stop_ ,” Whitetail hissed. “Your kits, Onestar — they still need you!” Her voice softened. “You have kits alive, and your kits have kits. You have _me_ , and the rest of your Clan. It’s not your time yet.” 

A bone - deep sorrow shone in Onestar’s eyes that Whitetail knew she couldn’t fight. He was determined to end Darktail come morning, no matter what it took. 

Touching her nose to his, Whitetail sighed and rose to her paws stiffly. Onestar shot his tail out to wrap around her hindleg. “Stay with me tonight,” he rasped, his voice pleading. 

“. . . Okay,” she whispered, finding herself feeling awkward all over again, almost as if it was their first night being spent together. The white she - cat curled up in his nest, feeling him wind around her, and settled in for the night.

“Please, survive tomorrow for me.” 

Onestar didn’t answer.

* * *

By the time dawn broke, Whitetail woke in her and Onestar’s nest alone. His scent was stale, and gray light was filtering in through the opening in the rock, indicating that Onestar was gone. A heaviness settled in her chest as she rose to her paws, cleaning the heather and moss from her pelt before padding out into the opening. 

“Did they win?” Whitetail asked the medicine cat, Kestrelflight, noting that Onestar had left the medicine cat behind. 

“Not yet,” he flicked his ears uneasily. “I’m supposed to go down there pretty soon, but I’m afraid of what I’ll find.” 

Whitetail flicked her tail. “Don’t let me keep you, go.” 

Kestrelflight looked up in surprise. When Whitetail waved her tail again in dismissal, the medicine cat hurriedly dipped his head and disappeared easily through the trashed exit. 

The sun rose high in the sky as Whitetail sat in the middle of camp, not daring to eat or move. She was too anxious. Every time she heard a screech come from the lake she’d wince, knowing that some cat was injured, that one more warrior might not make it home to their kin. The rain had eased off considerably, so she didn’t mind sitting out and getting a little wet. She wasn’t cold, just afraid of how many would be dead when the battle finally ended.

When the WindClan cats finally came back to camp, the cat in the lead was not Onestar, but Harespring. The mottled brown - and - white tom was dragging his paws and his tail in the dirt, and was soaked through to the bone. Kestrelflight was beside him, supporting the deputy as much as he could, but even Whitetail knew something heavier than the rain and wounds were weighing him down. He refused to meet her gaze, and padded right past her to collapse near the prey pile, flanks heaving. 

“Whitetail —”  Emberfoot croaked, padding up to Whitetail with Sedgewhisker beside him. Neither cat was looking directly at her. 

A pit of dread settled in Whitetail’s stomach. Somehow, she already knew what they were going to say. She had not seen Onestar in the precession of cats, but she had not seen any cat with his body, either. What _happened_ down there? 

“He pulled Darktail into the lake,” Sedgewhisker said finally, speaking for her mate. “They both went rolling into the shallows and . . .” 

“They drowned each other. Both went under, and neither resurfaced.” Emberfoot blurted out. Her kit still wasn’t looking at her directly, and it scared Whitetail because she feared that what he was saying was true. Onestar had never been intending on returning to camp, deep down . . . she had known that. He had left his nest with her in it before dawn, and had gone off to fight with no other intention than to kill Darktail. He had wanted it more than anything else, and now . . . 

Whitetail let out a moan of grief, feeling her legs give out from underneath her. Emberfoot was immediately pressing in on her side, taking the brunt of her weight. He was damp from the rain, and he had the overwhelming reek of the Kin and blood on him, but he was there. Alive. He was alive.

Dully, Whitetail looked at her paws, dimly aware of the bustling going around camp. Cats were going out to hunt, Kestrelflight was taking care of the wounded, and Harespring was talking about something — probably about a vigil for their lost leader — but Whitetail couldn’t join in. 

 _One day, Onestar, when I die and come join you up in StarClan, our fur will brush again. I hope that up there, there will be no more distance between us. Are you with them yet?_ She turned her dull emerald gaze onto the sky, watching as the clouds began to part and the sun began to shine through. _Did you make it to peace? I hope you’re watching now, and are proud of what you did. You’re a hero._


	16. he moves on.

“Oakstar,” Sweetbriar called, squeezing out of camp and into the opening of the ravine after him, “you can’t just ignore what happened!”

The tom snorted. “I can, and I _will_.” He jumped up the rocks, leaping from boulder to boulder, Sweetbriar was only steps behind. They reached the crest of the ravine around the same time, Sweetbriar already panting from the exertion.  It wasn’t like him to be so short with cats, or to run off without giving an explanation. He was grieving, she knew that.

“You can’t ignore what happened to Frecklewish and Birchface. They were your _kits_.” The larger tom was doing his best to stay away from her, stalking off into the underbrush, using his powerful shoulders to shove the thorny branches aside. “They’re your _kin_.”

Oakstar whirled, his massive paw inches from hers. Fury and grief lit up his dark gaze, and it took everything in Sweetbriar not to cringe away. “Do you think I don’t care about my kits? I do! I care about them, I care about what happened to them, but what can I do about it? _Nothing_! StarClan decided it was time to take them away. There was no way I could have saved them!”

“You still need to grieve over their deaths, Oakstar.” Sweetbriar’s tail lashed. “You _have_ to. You’ll never move past it if you don’t. The Clan needs you. Doefeather is a good deputy, but she can never fill your pawsteps.”

His gaze was pinning her to the spot, filling her veins with ice. Had she overstepped her boundaries? They had been growing progressively closer throughout the passing moons, and Sweetbriar would like to consider herself his second mate, but . . . but if he wasn’t ready —

“You’re right.” Oakstar sighed. He looked defeated and older than she remembered him looking. “You’re _right_. I never . . . I never mourned Shinecloud.”

The beautiful queen died whilst climbing a tree. Sweetbriar didn’t remember it, but, she had been told that the young queen had slipped and broken her neck. The elders said she was dead before she hit the ground. She was Oakstar’s first mate, and Frecklewish and Birchface were their kits. Both of whom were now dead.

“The Clan needs you to be strong and to move past this.” Sweetbriar pushed on, drawing the tip of her tail down his flank. “After Mapleshade, we need you now more than ever.”

Oakstar touched their noses together. Sweetbriar breathed in his earthy scent, relishing in the closeness of his fluffy pelt. “Thank you.”


	17. faithful to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk i felt like fluff cute stuff

Sandstorm’s tongue drew down his shoulder in long, rhythmic strokes. Eyes half – closed, Firestar leaned into her touch, a purr coming from the depths of his throat. He could sense that she had something on her mind that she wished to talk about, but he hoped that she didn’t break the silence for a few more moments yet. He just wanted to spend a few more moments with his mate before the other cats within in their Clan unknowingly disturbed it.

“I was thinking about Daisy earlier,” the pale ginger she – cat began, and Firestar flicked his ears curiously. “And I realized that she reminded me of someone that we know.” 

“Who?” Firestar demanded, looking at his mate with a confused expression. “Who could Daisy possibly remind you of?” 

There was an amused glint in Sandstorm’s eyes. The she – cat licked her forepaw, almost as if she were willing him to just _guess_.

“No other cat is coming to me, Sandstorm.”

“Think.” Sandstorm prompted. “We left her far behind . . .”

The moment that Sandstorm was ready to have pity upon him and give him the answer, Firestar blurted out the one name that came to mind. “Clovertail!”

Sandstorm gave a _mrrow_ of amusement. “Yes, Clovertail! You remember how she was when she first joined SkyClan!”

“She just wanted protection.” Firestar agreed. “Remember how she was when we left, though? She was a capable warrior. She knew the softness that being a queen required, but she also knew the fierceness that a warrior needed to have.”

The pale ginger warrior nodded, her gaze thoughtful. “Who knows? Maybe Daisy will turn around and turn out like Clovertail.”

“I don’t think so.” Firestar disagreed. “Clovertail could have had SkyClan blood in her. She’s lived as a loner, but having kits just made her jumpy and fearful, afraid to be on her own. Daisy joined us to protect her kits; not to be around Clanmates, not to be a part of a Clan. There’s a big difference.”

“You saw what Cloudtail did with Brightheart; he taught her how to be a warrior again. Maybe he could teach Daisy.” Sandstorm suggested quietly, and Firestar flicked his ears uneasily.

“Cloudtail and Brightheart are mates. Not Cloudtail and Daisy. He’d never leave her. Cloudtail might be a mousebrain, but he’d never hurt Whitepaw _and_ Brightheart.”

“Mousebrained your kin truly is,” Sandstorm agreed with a sigh. “Maybe Daisy might surprise us all and find a mate in the Clan that _isn’t_ Cloudtail, and become a warrior. Not just for her sake, but for hers too.”

Firestar touched his muzzle to the top of her head. “You worry too much. Daisy will find her place in her own time.”

Sandstorm flicked her tail. “I just hate having another Clovertail on our paws.” She muttered, and Firestar remembered the aggravation that the queen had caused in his mate.

“Don’t be grumpy,” he chided. “Clovertail ended up being a good friend to both of us.”

“After she had to learn the hard way.” Nostalgia filled Sandstorm’s green gaze, and Firestar rolled his eyes. His mate could be so stubborn and bad – tempered!

“I’ll make sure she finds her place, just like Clovertail did. Don’t you have faith in me?” Though he were joking, an underlying edge to his voice proved that he wasn’t.

“Oh, Firestar,” Sandstorm murmured, “I’ve always had faith in you.”


	18. what should have happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i saw a post on fb along the lines of "what if hawkfrost actually killed firestar and bramblestar became leader" and bing bang boom this happened please help me im sad

Firestar’s terrible death is still raw in Bramblestar’s memory.

A patrol had come across the flame – colored tom with one of those traps wound around his neck, and his blood pooled in a grotesque lake around his body. The rest of his lives had been drained away, and no cat had known about it. The overpowering reek of blood had blocked out all other scents, and it had been left up to Bramblestar to pull the Clan back together. Firestar’s death was so shocking and tragic that it had shaken ThunderClan’s confidence in themselves, and in StarClan. 

Bramblestar had no clue how he was going to restore that faith.

“Are you okay?” Cloudtail walked beside them as they headed to the island for the Gathering. The tom looked haunted.

“Fine,” Bramblestar’s voice rasped in his throat. “Just thinking of Firestar.” It was his first Gathering as ThunderClan’s leader. His paws were buzzing with nerves, and his heart was lodged in his throat, steadily reminding him that he wasn’t ready for this, that he wasn’t ready to face the other Clans and explain Firestar’s sudden and terrible death.

He barely had been even able to face his _own_ Clan. Nudged forward by Dustpelt, he had somehow gotten the words out, and watched as the weight sunk in. Sandstorm’s awful wail, Squirrelflight and Leafpool pressing against each other in horror, and the Clan breaking down in fear and grief. Bramblestar had made the decision to bury Firestar where he was because his neck was still caught, and he was too . . . dead. Having his body there wouldn’t provide closure, only make it worse.

Squirrelflight still hadn’t forgiven him for making that decision. 

“It’ll be okay.” Cloudtail reassured. The white tom was still very shaken from the event, and Bramblestar could tell from the way he gazed off, or stopped talking mid – sentence. His daughter, Whitewing, had even called him out on it, but he had brushed her off, claiming that he was fine, and that he just missed Firestar. “You can’t fear the other Clans,” Cloudtail went on, and Bramblestar felt a prickle of annoyance. “Or talking in front of them.”

Bramblestar tried not to snap at the white warrior, reigning in his short patience. “I know. I’m just not looking forward to telling them that Firestar’s dead, that’s all.”

The words sounded like they were fake, like he was lying, every single time he spoke them. Picking up his pace, Bramblestar hurried ahead of Cloudtail, choosing to walk beside Spiderleg. The long – legged warrior was silent, and Bramblestar was grateful for that. He needed some time to be able to think, to be able to figure out what he was going to say to the other leaders and the Clans.

_I’m now Bramblestar, and Firestar is dead. That’s it! See you next moon!_

He wasn’t a natural at this, he hadn’t had any time to prepare!

Before he knew it, the roots of the tree began to rise in his vision, and Bramblestar was forced to spring up onto the bark without a sense of hesitation. With his head held high with false confidence, he weaved around the protruding branches, his legs beginning to shake with each step closer he took to the island.

Overwhelming scents of ShadowClan and RiverClan attacked Bramblestar’s senses as he dropped onto the sand, determination steeling his nerves. He was ThunderClan’s leader now, and he was capable of showing that ThunderClan was still strong. It was going to take time for the Clan to heal, yes, but they would get there without the other Clans knowing just how hard it was going to be.

Bramblestar stalked into the clearing, his pelt burning underneath all the stares. He kept his head high, swallowing hard against the lump in his throat. He could do this. He travelled farther than any other cat had, and that was more terrifying than leading a Clan! In a way, he had been born for this. It was in his blood.

“Congratulations, Bramblestar.” A voice catches his attention, and Bramblestar stops, finding his gaze meeting with his brothers. Hawkfrost’s icy blue eyes were boring into his, and he couldn’t help but smile. Hawkfrost was a soothing presence to him, and he took comfort in his half – brother. 

“Thank you, Hawkfrost. I’m sure it won’t be long before Leopardstar makes you her deputy once more.” Bramblestar greets, knowing that his half – brother wanted to prove himself desperately. His time would come. Maybe not now, but soon.

“We must speak once more, away from the Gathering. Meet me at the shore tomorrow, on the ThunderClan side.” Hawkfrost’s voice is low, and Bramblestar’s ears twitch uncomfortably. “Trust me, you’re going to want to hear this.”

“Hawkfrost,” Mothwing calls, which pulls the tom away from him.

“Meet me tomorrow, Bramblestar,” Hawkfrost urges, and Bramblestar finds himself agreeing. He doesn’t know why, but he says yes as his half – brother is pulled away by the RiverClan medicine cat, and doubt settles its way into his heart.

* * *

He meets Hawkfrost, as asked. Standing with the waves lapping over his paws, Bramblestar waits, his claws pulling nervously at the stones on the shore. Hawkfrost was late, or he just wasn’t showing. The ThunderClan leader snorts, wondering if this all was just a bad idea. Hawkfrost might be his kin, but he was ThunderClan’s leader now, and that meant no more meetings with the RiverClan tom!

“You came.” Hawkfrost calls, brushing his way through the undergrowth.

“I was just about to leave.” He admitted, meeting his brothers gaze.

“We need to talk. Do you know how you became ThunderClan’s leader?” Hawkfrost asked innocently, and Bramblestar paused, wondering if there was a trick to this question.

“Firestar died.” 

“Do you know _how_ he died?” 

“He . . . got caught in one of those Twoleg traps. The twine around his neck, it was what killed him.” Bramblestar took a step towards Hawkfrost, finding that he couldn’t read his expression. Hawkfrost’s eyes were cold, like chips of ice. Bramblestar wanted to back away, to say that he didn’t want to know, but he couldn’t find the strength. His paws were rooted to the ground, fur standing on end. 

“The great Firestar, caught in a Twoleg trap?” Hawkfrost sneered. “There’s no way he would get trapped without outside _help_.” Hawkfrost began to circle around him, and Bramblestar shook his head as if trying to clear it. Hawkfrost’s words sounded as if they were from far away, and he felt as if the next ones would sweep him off his paws.

“I lured Firestar into that trap,” Hawkfrost hissed, “I watched him die over and over again, just to ensure that you would be the one to take his leadership. You were too much of a _coward_ yourself that I had to get it done before you knew. Do you see the gift I’ve given you Bramblestar? I’ve given you your greatest dreams without you having to do any of the dirty work.” His blue eyes gleamed, and Bramblestar felt sick. 

“Firestar played right into my paw! It was _too easy_ to get him into that trap. Now you’re ThunderClan’s leader, and soon enough, I’ll be RiverClan’s leader. I look forward to a long . . . _partnership_ , Bramblestar.” Hawkfrost’s tail brushed against his shoulder, and Bramblestar flinched.

As his brother bounded away, Hawkfrost came to a stop for one last deadly quip. “Remember, just as I’ve given you this gift, I can take it away.”


	19. legacy. what is a legacy?

“Do you need some help getting down the slope?” Bramblepaw hovered at his mother's side, his amber eyes gleaming with excitement.

Goldenflower affectionately touched her nose to his ear, reveling in how sweet her son was. “I may be old, Bramblepaw, but I’m not _that_ old. Go on, go see your sister. I’m sure you and Tawnypaw have _much_ to tell each other.” 

“Thanks!” Bramblepaw yelped and shot down the slope, his tail streaming out behind him. Goldenflower watched him go affectionately, not quite ready to go down herself. She hovered at the crest, watching as cats from all four Clans mingled below. Firestar was already on the Great Rock, chatting amicably with Tallstar. Leopardstar sat at the bottom, head bent towards Mistyfoot, eyes flashing in the moonlight.   

“Would you like to go down with me? Both of us are old, Goldenflower. We can help each other down.” Mousefur stiffly stood beside her, and Goldenflower rolled her eyes.

“I’m older than you are, Mousefur. But, sure, let us go join the others together.”

The old she – cats headed down together, talking quietly as they picked their way down the steep slope. Goldenflower kept her eye open for Bramblepaw, finally spotting him by her daughter. Tawnypaw was showing him some type of battle move, pawing painfully at his ears. She could tell Bramblepaw was purring by the way his body shook with the force of it.

Mousefur went to join a pair of elders with a quiet goodbye, whilst Goldenflower stood awkwardly to herself, not really wanting to go join the friends that she had made in the other Clans. She was more interested in simply watching the cats mingle, at least until she saw a young apprentice. RiverClan, by the scent of him, looking too much like a form that she once knew.

The tom, sensing he was being watched, turned to meet her gaze. His eyes were chips of ice, but his broad and distinguished features were more than familiar.

She suddenly felt what Firestar felt, back when Bramblepaw was a kit; she felt her blood run cold, and her heart grow still in her chest. But this was for a different reason. This was in the sense of betrayal, not a sense of fear. Her heart twisted, and she looked away, a tremble working its way into her legs.

That apprentice, one she recognized as Hawkpaw — the loner, Sasha’s — son. He had a sister, a beautiful golden tabby named Mothpaw. Mothpaw had looked vaguely familiar, in the shape of her head and the way she held herself, but that was nothing compared to Hawkpaw. The young apprentice was the image of Tigerstar, and that could only mean one thing: he was Tigerstar’s son. 

Emotionally, it hurt her. She had believed that Tigerstar had loved her. He had shown no other interest in the she – cats in any Clan, only paying any mind to her. He had tried to win her affection, but she had made it difficult for him, always rebuking his advances with playfulness. 

One of her favorite memories drifted over her mind, and a small smile drifted over her expression.

_“Have a safe patrol,” Goldenflower purred, drawing her tail underneath his chin. Tigerclaw’s eyes flashed, his affection for her showing in his amber depths._

_“I have no say in the matter.” Tigerclaw puffed out his chest, his expression revealing that he wanted her to be concerned; to wish him good luck and to pray to StarClan that he would return. But Goldenflower was not that type of she – cat. She was independent, fiercely so, and did not wish to waste her breath inflating Tigerclaw’s ego._

_“Die then,” Goldenflower muttered, stalking away from him with her tail kinked over her back. Tigerclaw had stared at her in surprise, and she had felt his gaze following her all the way out of camp._

He had respected her from then on, allowing her to come to him when she wished. They had been mostly inseparable after that, letting the Clan gossip about their blossoming relationship.

Ever since then, she had thought that his heart had belonged to her, and her alone. The way that he treated her, the way that he had loved her and the way that he had expected nothing from her was absolutely intoxicating. She had loved him from the beginning and wanted only him; no other tom could ever compare. 

So this . . . finding out that he had had kits with this Sasha, was a shattering blow.

Not only because she had thought that he had loved her, but because two other apprentices now would be remembered only for their father. She didn’t know if Hawkpaw and Mothpaw knew who their father was, but she knew it was time to ask. She was going to talk to Sasha, see how this could have come about. How did Sasha even _know_ Tigerstar? She came to RiverClan _after_ he was dead! 

Standing up on her hindlegs, Goldenflower scanned the bunches of cats, searching for the familiar well – groomed pelt. She spotted Sasha sitting by a RiverClan warrior named Blackclaw and squeezed her way through the throngs, thanking StarClan that Sasha had come tonight, and that it was a warm night. The Gathering would not start for some time yet, and would end late.

“You’re Sasha, right?” Goldenflower asked when she came close, watching as suspicion flickered through Sasha’s sharp icy blue gaze. The loner queen nodded sharply, and Blackclaw glared at Goldenflower. “Walk with me, please.” 

“Why? I don’t know you.” Sasha sounded arrogant, and Goldenflower had to bite back a sharp comment. 

“I think you’ll find that we have . . . a lot in common. Especially when it comes to our kits.” 

Something registered in Sasha’s expression, and she nodded, rising to her paws. She nodded reassuringly at Blackclaw, who still was glaring at Goldenflower. 

“So, you knew Tigerstar?” Goldenflower asked, her heart caught in her throat. Sasha just nodded. “He’s the father of Hawkpaw and Mothpaw, isn’t he?”

Sasha looked at her in surprise. “How did you know?” 

“Because, I would recognize Tigerstar’s kits anywhere. When I first saw Mothpaw, I had thought she looked familiar. I saw him in her stance, her expression, the shape of her head. I couldn’t place it, until I saw Hawkpaw. The way he looked at me, his fur, his body . . . He is Tigerstar’s son. I know, simply because of my own son and daughter. Look, follow my tail. That’s my son Bramblepaw, and that’s my daughter Tawnypaw. They’re older than your kits, almost warriors now, even though Bramblepaw is still in many ways, still a kit.” She could see the look of horror dawning upon Sasha’s face. “You have to know; you did not know him.” 

“I think I knew him well enough.” Sasha growled, and Goldenflower shook her head sadly. 

“No, Sasha, you didn’t. Tiger _star_ is a completely different cat from Tiger _claw_. I was a young apprentice when Tigerstar was born. I paid him no mind, for he was a kit; he was arrogant, spoiled, and a bit of a bully when it came to the younger kits. We trained some before I became a warrior, but I didn’t really notice him until later. He was confident, strong, the best warrior in the Clan without even trying. He was skilled in battle and in hunting, and knew just how to wrap every cat around his claw. But he had this gentleness about him that he only showed to me. A gentleness that made me fall in love with him.

“He was still sarcastic, still very arrogant, but I loved him regardless. I made him chase after me, work hard to get me to finally commit to him, and when the time came . . . I didn’t regret it. He was a great cat, so wondrous and excited. We spoke about having kits, but we didn’t actually have them until way later.

“Tigerstar started to change after Firestar came to the Clan. I don’t know what drove him to kill Redtail, I don’t know _why_ he had to do it, but he did. He would have gotten away with it, too, if Firestar never came. For a long time, I resented him. Firestar was his absolute undoing in the worst ways, and he unraveled the frail fringes of Tigerstar’s sanity. Tigerstar became paranoid and violent, and he even began pulling away from me. I was pregnant with our kits at the time, and Tigerstar, as excited as he was to be a father, he had lost it. Though he spent his days trying to undo Firestar, at nights, he’d come into the nursery with me and lay with our kits. 

“He loved Bramblekit and Tawnykit from the moment he set eyes upon them. But his obsession with taking Firestar down was his undoing. He got caught trying to kill Bluestar, and he was banished. I saw him once after that, but I knew that I couldn’t stay loyal to him _and_ to the Clan, so I made a choice; I let him go. I thought that I had fully let him go from my heart, but I never did. 

“The only thing I hate about him is the way that he had left our kits. Bramblepaw and Tawnypaw will always be seen as Tigerstar’s kits; always carbon copies of him. Sharing his nature, sharing his traitor blood. Bramblepaw has the misfortune of looking _exactly_ like him; when cats look at him, they will see his father. They will not see any of me, they will not see any of who he is. My son has to prove himself time and time again, and so will my daughter. It is the thing I hate Tigerstar most for. But I will _always_ love him. 

“Seeing . . . Hawkpaw, and knowing that he had kits with another queen tore my heart to shreds. Do your kits know who their father is, Sasha?”

Sasha looked at her, and Goldenflower could see the grief in her eyes. The realization that Tigerstar never loved her to his full capability; that he had loved Goldenflower first, and that was where his true heart would always be. Whatever he had seen in Sasha, it would have never been enough to eclipse the love he had once had, in his sane mind, for Goldenflower.

“They know.” Sasha whispered. “I told them they must never speak of it, not to any cat. I know the horrors that Tigerstar inflicted; I found out even more of them once I joined RiverClan. He terrorized every Clan in this forest. His crime will never be forgiven. I know this, Goldenflower, I do. I realized long ago that I did not know him. That is why I cannot stay here. I’m leaving RiverClan.” 

“What, you’re _leaving_?” Goldenflower stared at the other she – cat in surprise.

“I don’t know what will happen when the Clan cats find out that Hawkpaw and Mothpaw are also Tigerstar’s kits. I doubt it will be good, and I’m not ready to risk it. My kits will be warriors that RiverClan will be proud of, and in time, they will be forgiven for who their father was. Just like your kits will be. Have faith in your StarClan, Goldenflower. I know Tigerstar believed that StarClan condoned his actions.”

With that, Sasha was finished speaking. She turned, whirling away from Goldenflower, disappearing back into the safety of her Clanmates. Goldenflower watched her go, sadness dawning in her chest. She wished that things would have been different. Deep down, she wished that Hawkpaw and Mothpaw had never been born; then the legacy of being Tigerstar’s mate would be hers, and hers alone. But it was shared now, and a large part of her hated it.

It was selfish, and Goldenflower knew that. But it was the most selfish she had been in moons, seasons even, and she was going to allow herself to feel every last bit of it until it was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the whole "die then" part came from a photo set i saw and im crying it was the best thing i've ever fucking seen in my life and i cant remeMBER WHO FUCKIN DID IT SO I CAN CREDIT THEM


	20. the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger ??? drowning ????

The first time he drowned an animal, he felt powerful. 

Young, barely eight moons old and encouraged by his mother, he had chased a squirrel into the shallows of a riverbed that Smoke had chosen as their new home. His paws had soaked with icy water, but he still had captured the small creature, his nails gently gripping his pelt with enough force to keep it underneath the water. He watched, mesmerized, as the animal struggled for its life, bubbles spraying wildly from its mouth. He could feel its little heart pounding so fast. 

The world zeroed in on this moment. It was just himself and the squirrel, the water numbing his flesh underneath the thick fur, Smoke idly watching without much interested in what her son was doing.

For the first time in all of his life, his heart beat and swelled in excitement in regards to something that wasn’t revenge against his foxheart of a father.

As he grew older, the prey became larger, and fought harder. By the time he was seasons old, he moved on from prey and other animals to cats. The first cat he had drowned was a struggle.

It was a stray, a young, fit, strong tom that fought _hard_ against Darktail. He had had to dig his claws deep into the toms pelt to keep him under the water, applying every ounce of strength he had in his body to keep the stray under the uneasy, disturbed, waves.

There were several cats that had escaped, left him with wounds that eventually scarred over and became reminders of his failures. Darktail eventually perfected his technique of drowning cats, even ones that were bigger and stronger than himself. _Those_ cats were his absolute triumphs.

When he took over SkyClan, the cats that he could find around the area were all drowned. All except for Mistfeather. There was no way he could drag Mistfeather away in front of that pathetic excuse for an apprentice, Alderpaw. Instead, he put the annoying mousebrain out of his misery, and then moved on.

In ShadowClan, when he took over their Clan right out from underneath Rowanstar, he had the perfect excuse to drown the cats he deemed as traitors. His paws had been itching for a fix; it had been too long since his last drowning, and his patience had been running out.

The ones who tried to leave, he had decided to play a game with them. He’d let them get ahead, perhaps on their way towards the neighboring Clan or out of the territory, he didn’t know where they were going and he didn’t care. But he’d follow them, as silent as a shadow, and drag them to the nearest streambed or, if he was feeling daring, to the lake. He’d hold them underneath the surface for as long as he could, haul them up for a gasping, fleeting breath, then dunk them underneath again.

This type of powerplay got him excited, far beyond words could ever describe.

He drowned so many of them that he lost count. Dawnpelt, Birchbark, Lioneye, Mistcloud . . . So, so many more perished to his powerful, heavy paws. Needletail was a pain in the tail, since he was trying to get dear Violetpaw to speak to him, but his brain still released that precious chemical that he got so high off of. He carried these memories of the up close and personal drownings with him, very close to his heart, so he could replay them again and again any time that he so chose to.

But, oh, drowning his father was the best one! 

Onestar was a fighter. He wrestled and clawed and fought so hard that Darktail was surprised. Onestar wanted to live? He didn’t think that his father had an ounce of ferocity in him. He had struggled to keep Onestar underneath the surface, both of them often rolling on top of each other so many times that he had become dizzy from the lack of air. He was stronger than Onestar, but he was high off of his own desire to drown. Onestar was a cleaner fighter, but he was weak from his old age and his recent insanity fit.

In the end, he did get his father; but the cost of it was his own life. The two of them had been well matched, and the water that had once given Darktail so much joy took the very last breath from his lungs.

He wouldn’t have had it any other way.


	21. wait for it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kinda a pov of hollyleaf's death ???

She didn’t know why she leaped. 

She had seen Ivypool cowering in front of Hawkfrost, eyes wild with fear and her body trembling. Something inside of her had just clicked, and she had lunged, hind claws digging into the soft peat and muscles tightening as her body sailed through the air, front paws outstretched and claws extending to their max. The wind was soft and cool as it rustled each individual strand of fur, steeling her nerves and calming her pounding heart.

Hawkfrost was no stranger to her. Back when she had thought Brambleclaw to be her father, she had heard the whispered stories. Hawkfrost and his cunning, manipulative nature. Hawkfrost and his murderous tendencies, just like his father. Hawkfrost, never to be trusted, and one of the best warriors of his time. His eyes were endlessly blue, burning with a fire that struck fear and worry within her. But she would not let him get to her. She was her own warrior, powerful in her own right.

She didn’t feel it at first when his claws sliced right through her fur. She didn’t feel pain, nor did she feel his presence close to her body. Her body reacted, albeit. From her neck down, she convulsed, eyes twisting shut and tail bristling. As if from a distance, she heard Ivypool’s thin wail, but that was nothing compared to the peaceful descent of her body.

Hollyleaf didn’t hit the ground at all like she thought she would. It was a heavy, solid landing that brought her down upon her shoulder, bruising the delicate skin underneath. She could feel the impact all throughout her leg and her ribs, and was completely breathless by the time that her body came to a complete stop. Her claws instinctively curled as she lay, gaping upon the hard peat, unable to find her breath. Her legs jerked, claws scoring through the dust muddied from blood shed from living and deceased cats, leaving desperate imprints. 

Commotion happened behind her, but her eyes were glued upon her twitching, unsteady legs. Out of the corner of the gaze, she could see the blood pooling around her body. It clogged through her dark fur, keeping it warm and damp against her flesh. Something hot trickled out of the corner of her maw, between her back teeth, slipping like droplets of water down her chin. She didn’t feel any pain, no. Only shock. Poisonous, toxic shock that rendered her brain inept. 

“Hollyleaf, please, not yet,” paws were straddled upon her shoulder, shaking her a bit more roughly than needed. Hollyleaf’s eyes rolled to the culprit, spotting the one and only Ivypool; the fellow outcast like herself. The she – cat was staring in fear at Hollyleaf, her face all clawed up and covered in blood, and her ears were pinned to her skull. The young warrior had already been through so much torment, Hollyleaf knew; adding more onto her shoulders would be cruel, but she had no choice now. The wound in her neck was deep, and no medicine cat could fix it. 

“ _Kestrelflight_!” Ivypool shrieked, searching over her shoulder for the WindClan medicine cat. Hollyleaf simply shook her head, feeling as if the world was spinning out of control around her. She could still hear the shrieks of fighting cats, feel the thumps of their bodies as they flung against the ground, sense their pain as if it was her own, but as if she were territories away. It was all so distant, like it wasn’t happening around them. 

“No, Ivypool,” she murmured, weakly raising her tail and resting it upon the young warriors shoulder. “I’m going to die.”

 _“No_!” Ivypool sobbed, removing her paws and moving to Hollyleaf’s back. Gentle teeth sank into her scruff, and she had the sensation of being pulled across the ground. Hollyleaf felt each bump, each misstep like a claw to her heart. Each grunt, gasp, or silent sound of pain did nothing to deter Ivypool from dragging her across WindClan’s camp and out onto their barren territory. “I’ll get you to Leafpool, she’ll fix you up. She and Jayfeather will fix you right up, okay, Hollyleaf?” The question was mumbled against her thick fur. Hollyleaf’s only response was to squeeze her eyes shut, all the words she had never spoken dying upon her tongue.

 _StarClan, give me the strength to hold on to apologize to my mother. I cannot die without letting Leafpool know that my actions are deeply regretted_.

Like a flashback, the moment in which she revealed her and her littermates horrible secret to all four Clans at the Gathering and how she attempted to kill her mother played back across her mind. The desperation that swirled through her body was present now, bringing a surge of strength to her body. Struggling against Ivypool, Hollyleaf managed to shake herself loose, stubbornly rising to her paws. She swayed unsteadily, but Ivypool caught her before she fell.

“I can walk,” Hollyleaf growled through gritted teeth, shakily placing one paw in front of the other. She heard Ivypool say something, perhaps a word of concern, but Hollyleaf wasn’t listening. She focused upon her trembling, wide black paws, noticing the blood that dripped from her maw like rain. Ignoring it, she trudged on, her breath coming in sharp gasps and her muscles shrieking at her to stop. She had to make it to the ThunderClan camp, she still had so much left to say! 

Not just to Leafpool, but to Brambleclaw, to Squirrelflight, and to her brothers. There were so many apologies that had to come from her tongue, that she had to get out before her heart stopped pumping. Growls slipped from her throat as she heavily leaned upon Ivypool, managing to make it to stream that marked the border before collapsing. Her breath left her sharply, and though her strength began to fade, she struggled to her paws once more, determination forcing her to continue on.

“Can you manage to the jump?” Ivypool was asking, and Hollyleaf nodded, unable to find the strength to form words. Instead, she bunched her muscles up underneath her, able to feel them tremble. Her jump was sloppy; her tail waved erratically, and it was only because of Ivypool that she landed upon her paws at all. The younger warrior had caught her before she had hit the slippery slope, teeth embedded so deep into her scruff that they drew blood.

From then on, Ivypool had to drag her through the forest, most of Hollyleaf’s lower body trailing through the leaves, the mulch, and the decay that was starting to form. The start of leaf – fall was coming, and that meant if they won this battle, no, _when_ they won this battle, any weakness would succumb to sickness, and the Clans would be lost on how to provide for themselves. This was a terrible time for a battle.

“Help me!” Ivypool yowled once they got close to camp, and relief filled Hollyleaf. She was _home_.

Supported between Ivypool and another cat, Sorreltail, she noticed, the she – cats managed to pull her into the ThunderClan camp before Hollyleaf’s legs buckled from underneath her. She landed heavily, her body pulsating with agony. The shock had worn off, leaving her with the stark reality that she was going to die. Her blood loss had been tremendous, and the wound in her throat was just too large to patch up. Strangely, she felt peaceful about it. This was the death she wanted; the death of a noble, heroic warrior.

Cats wailed when they saw the state she was in, and Hollyleaf tried to reassure them, but no words came from her. Instead, she lay there pathetically upon the camp floor, watching with white – rimmed eyes as Leafpool and Jayfeather crowded around her, Squrirelflight, Brambleclaw and Lionblaze hesitating behind them. Firestar and Sandstorm were in her line of sight, and she blinked gratefully at the two cats that had believed in her from the start; they both stared sadly back, knowing she was dying.

 _Goodbye, Firestar, Sandstorm. You have treated me well; I will see you both again in StarClan_.

Her gaze flickered to Lionblaze. Oh, her sweet, goofy brother. _Be happy with Cinderheart. Love her like you loved Heathertail; love her_ more _than that. I’ll be watching you and your future kits from StarClan_.

The three of them had always seemed to share a telepathic connection. Lionblaze stared back at her, hard, his eyes wild. _Don’t go, don’t leave me, you just came back_! She could hear his voice clear as day, but she just shook her head, her acceptance showing through minor movements.

 _Squirrelflight, you were a better mother than I could have ever asked for. As were you, Brambleclaw. Mend your relationship, please. Be together once more for Jayfeather and Lionblaze, and the future that you two will share. Don’t let this continue to tear you apart. Let this be my last request to you both._  

Brambleclaw looked away from her, his expression anguished. Squirrelflight only looked on in horror, green eyes so wide that they looked as if they were going to pop out of her head. Hollyleaf wanted to reassure them both, tell them that this is what she wanted, but the words wouldn’t come. The words wouldn’t come for any of them. 

_Jayfeather, don’t be so grumpy. Forgive Leafpool for what she did; she had to do it, we had to be born. It was all destiny. Don’t stay angry with her forever; hasn’t she been punished enough?_

Her brother gazed back at her, his sightless eyes betraying every emotion that flickered through his mind. Fear. Denial. Anger. Grief. Acceptance. He lowered his head, turning away from her.

When she looked at her mother, Leafpool, the words finally came. Rasping and broken, they came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end cuts off so abruptly bc i wanted it to at least KINDA match w/ what happened in the book but what can u do


End file.
